Whispers of the Forest
by Aurora Bluewolf
Summary: Legolas trades his life for Aragorn's when Sauron is about to kill him. Minor yaoi for now, angst, drama, and possibly chickens. Aragorn/Legolas, Legolas/one-sided Sauron. Movie based. Rated for language, will be upped soon.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This idea came some time ago, and I found it in my archives recently. I don't know if I should continue this idea or not. It's got potential, but… I don't know if anyone would read it. So, if you'd like to review, I'd greatly appreciate it. This was made after I saw the movies. Feel free to correct me nicely if I botch something (I'm still not as into the whole history here as I'd like to be, and I don't trust wikipedia for this stuff).

Um… yaoi? If I get enough steam for it, I'll write more. Kinda in a confidence low at the moment.

So, thanks for reading in advance. I hope you enjoy it, but I will ignore flames if they come.

I don't own Lord of the Rings and make no money off this.

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><p>Aragorn was injured. He was laying face down on the ground in front of the most dangerous thing to ever live- the Dark King Sauron.<p>

Legolas didn't have time to think. He needed to act now! He had to save him! He couldn't lose another friend to this Valar forsaken war!

"Wait!" Legolas screamed as he held up his hand to the Dark King, getting his attention. He wasn't one for taking such risky behaviors in the light of battle, but this was a special case. He had lost his mother, cousins, friends, and former lovers to this war, and it was slowly crushing him beneath the weight of his thoughts every night. Sleep wasn't cooperating, and his health had started to decline.

"I'll… I'll make a deal with you…" Legolas yelled as he ran to the dark king. Sauron stilled his blade as he glanced at the beautiful elf approaching them. All of the orcs stopped their cheering in the Dark King's direction to see who was foolish enough to try to stop the man they hailed as king.

"What kind of deal?" Sauron asked as he gave the elf a third look over under his helmet. Legolas caught his breath quickly to answer.

"My life in exchange for his." He said bluntly. Sauron cocked an eye at him under the helmet, but none could see it from where it was positioned.

"And why would you do that?" The dark king asked. Legolas steeled himself to the dark elf's gaze.

"I have my…reasons." Legolas said as he stood in front of the men, knowing well that he could have been killed at any moment.

"Reasons?" Sauron asked, a slight mock in his voice as he spoke. Oh, this elf would be his. Either his head mounted on his wall or his obedience.

"Yes" Legolas replied curtly, not wanting to allow too much to slip his lips.

"That… may be acceptable… but it depends." Sauron spoke again. He might get a better deal out of this than a half brain dead orc filling his court.

"Depends on what?" Legolas demanded. He couldn't let this monster kill his beloved friend.

"Your title. I can see you are from the elves, but what is your title, oh pure one?" Sauron growled sarcastically. Legolas got the feeling that he already knew, but wanted confirmation for the sake of a bargaining chip.

"How do you know-" Legolas began.

"I can smell your purity from here… it is… intoxicating. And even among elves, such perfect skin is reserved for the royal houses." Sauron cut him off. Barring his mind from allowing him to shun this beast for his rude behavior, he pressed forward with his words.

"I… I am known as Legolas Greenleaf. Prince of Mirkwood and son of Thranduil." Legolas said, never breaking eye contact with the dark king.

"Ah… you are of the royal house of Mirkwood?" Sauron spoke. There was a slight odd inflection on the end of his words that confused the prince, but he shrugged it off. His brothers use to do that to try to force his overly thinking mind to tax itself on their words.

"Ay..." Legolas said.

"A deal it is. His life…" Sauron said as he held out his hand to Legolas "For yours…"

Legolas felt a sickening feeling rising in his throat. It filled his chest and forced him to clench his bow tightly in his hand. He carefully approached the dark armored king and allowed himself a few feet of distance in case the king tried something insane.

"And what will you do with Aragorn?" Legolas asked as he set his sight into the coal dark eyes of the king. Sauron smiled at him for a moment before replying.

"If it suits you, we will take him to the forest edge where the battles are being fought and leave him to your human allies." Sauron said as he glanced back at the unconscious human who was still bleeding from the minor cuts on his head where the handle of the sword had hit him.

"Ay… I will trust you to your word… as a king of Middle-Earth." Legolas spoke as he allowed himself to be drawn towards the king and pulled close to his larger form. Sauron was an intimidating man by all means, and even with Legolas's unusual height (against the average man), the dark king still dwarfed him by a good five inches.

"Gather Legolas's horse and belongings. Then come to Tower of Barad-dûr ." Sauron said as he lifted Legolas onto the strong stallion he'd brought to the battle. Legolas couldn't even approach the thing without it snapping at him, so Sauron had to place the warrior onto the beast's saddle before mounting himself. Legolas feared the strangely large beast would bite him should he even try to touch its glistening mane, so he carefully folded his bow into its place on his shoulder and allowed Sauron to hold him to the beast. Legolas had dealt with horses in the past, but this one was different. Its eye blazed red in color, and its teeth could be seen as…sharp, fang like in nature. The sheer power of this monster was a force to be reckoned with, and could be felt in the movements it cast against the ground as they started for Mordor.

Legolas felt as though he'd just sold his life from any shred of happiness. He'd given up everything for his love… even though it was an unrequited and unknown love. It was Legolas's love. It was something that belonged to him and him alone. Sauron would probably kill him as a show of power to the realm. Sadly, in his own mind, Legolas slowly made peace with this fact. What did he really have left to live for? The one he loved would never return his love, and would be bound to the loveliest of all humans, while Legolas would be martyred in front on the entire Orc army. To some degree, this would be a thankful release from this world… but… Legolas couldn't help but feel a sense of regret. There were so many things he would do if he had the time. So many places he'd venture to with only his bow and his faithful horse. So many landscapes to admire and beautiful rivers he'd swim in. So many skies he'd dream of flying in… if only to escape the ideas that he was unwanted. The land wanted him. The land always wanted him. The forest had always greeted him with songs of peace, and the rivers had always offered a gracing hand to the young prince when his heart was hurting from another scorning.

He'd fought long and hard to gain the respect of the elves of Mirkwood, but as the last Prince to be born, he was met with resistance and glares. No one knew where he'd come from, only that he was the king's son. Few would say it to his face, but those whispers behind his back ate away at him over time. After years of trying to cope with it, he found his peace in the trees in their talk, the rivers in their songs, and the sky in its breath. Most other elves wouldn't be able to hear such things, but that was the benefit of the royal household. And while his elder brothers wouldn't care much for him, he would enjoy the beauty of his own world with his best friend- the stallion he rode into battle each time he fought. He would never voice how much pleasure battle gave him, but it allowed him to take out his frustrations on an opponent. He would lose to his brothers, and gain even less favor with his father because of it, but it was something. It was something that was his for a time…

But all that didn't matter now. He was headed for his death, and he doubted it would be a war crime well received. He doubted the elves would even react. He doubted the King of Mirkwood would even glance at whatever hole they threw his corpse into after he was buried, assuming he was even there. In fact, the Fellowship might be the only ones who attended his burial. After all, they were his first encounter with decent people. He had been so outcasted by his own people, meeting the ranger and the dwarf was his first interaction with someone who wouldn't have been happier to see him beheaded.

Hence… why he'd fallen in love. He fell hard too. He'd never felt such a wonderful feeling like this… which is why he clung to it so hard. He couldn't let this go. He needed to feel wanted…loved…something- just once in his life. He'd already written off his existence and accidental, and that he wasn't to be accepted or loved by any of his own people. So he needed this so badly. He had watched others go about in their own ways, living as they saw fit; and he been jealous of those very people.

They were allowed to live in happiness- why was he not?

What crime had he committed by being born that he wasn't allowed to grace the halls of favor or acceptance?

"We are nearly there." Sauron's voice broke Legolas's dark musings. He could see the large tower in the distance, clearly surrounded by a number of small houses, almost like a small town. The tower itself had a good area of trees around it, but Legolas could only see the tops of them from this far away. He noted they had a waterfall, so a river must have been close by.

'_Perhaps this won't be such an awful condemnation… at least I get to talk to the trees once more…'_ Legolas thought to himself. He couldn't believe that his end would have come like this… selflessly sold off as war fodder.

As they flew through the settlement, Sauron pushed the horse through the gates of the Dark Tower and stopped at the grand doorway. He carefully dismounted, and then reached for Legolas's hand to help him down. Legolas, not to be rude, took the offered hand and allowed himself to be taken down from the stallion, who was starting to fidget.

Sauron seized Legolas by the arm and dragged him into the dark tower, leaving the light of the sun glistened realm outside. The tower was magnificent. Large piers soared up to beautifully carve obsidian capitals and groin vaulting. Battles and treaties were painted on the blank areas between the vaulting, and the walls were decorated with great murals. Legolas hadn't seen such beautiful paintings since his stay in Mirkwood's finest relic hall, back when he'd been hiding from his brothers who sought to throw him into the river at that moment. Legolas had began to hate his brothers shortly before that day, but at this point in time, all that seemed to be completely irrelevant. He'd die before he'd ever have to take another shred of torture from those bastards again.

Sauron dragged the elf up a set of stairs, with more decorated walls and ceilings leading up to each level they passed. Legolas could see each level they passed, and felt like they were going up much higher than the dungeons or alters went. Where the hell was Sauron taking him?

"Where are we going?"Legolas asked as he was dragged even further up the tower's stairs until they reached the top floor. Sauron pulled the younger being into a large, ornately decorated bedroom. Legolas had never seen such a beautiful place, and certainly not expected to be killed in one.

"You will stay here until I say otherwise." Sauron spoke as he turned to leave the wide eyed Legolas to stare at the room. Legolas turned to the man. None of this made sense. Sauron was suppose to kill him! Not throw him into a beautiful room atop some tower like a prized princess! He was a warrior for Valar-sake! He was supposed to fight and die a noble death in the throw of battle! Surrendering himself to Sauron was bad enough, but having to await his most un-noble fate while the rest of his companions were run through like a pig before supper was just too much.

"Why? Aren't you going to take my life?" Legolas asked bluntly, a small stutter appearing on the end of his words. Sauron chuckled a little as he reached to door. He turned his head back to the elf.

"You agreed to your life for the human's. I never declared what I would do with your life when I had it." Sauron said as he started to leave.

"But, what good am I to you alive?" Legolas asked again quickly. Sauron turned back to him again, apparently in a hurry. There was still a war to fight, and battles rarely waited for one to join them.

"You are of the royal household. You will prove useful in time." Sauron growled at the young elf, making Legolas jump a little in unexpected forcefulness of the dark one's voice. It reminded him of a cat's growl, but was more… seductive. Legolas felt the bile rise to his throat as he clenched his quiver's strap. It brought him little comfort where it normally would, but he supposed he deserved some comfort while in this borderline barren place. With few trees to speak to and only one river to hear, this place felt mediocre against Mirkwood's wide forest.

Legolas pulled himself away from the door a little, if only to gain a foot more of distance should the evil king try anything.

"I hope the room is to your liking… you won't be leaving this tower for some time." Sauron said as he closed the door. Legolas heard it lock and felt a wave of either exhaustion, despair, or a little of both, wash over him.

He collapsed onto the bed and unbuckled the quiver of arrows from his back, tossing it to the side with his bow as he curled up in his new arrangements. He knew he should be grateful on some level, after all, he was allowed to live. He just couldn't bear the weight on his heart at this moment. Aragorn still lived on bought time. Time purchased at Legolas's cost. Chances were, even with such a good deed at this, no one would ever know about it. He would be forgotten by his friends and seen as a traitor at best among his brethren at Mirkwood.

Disgraceful.

Disgusting.

Dishonorable.

…and it seemed like everyone who'd ever hated him was finally getting their wish. Legolas, the strange elf prince, was going to be forced to be Sauron's associate, and most likely be killed afterwards. If not, he'd probably take his own life due to the shame of being forced to bow to an unworthy king. He doubted anyone from any of the three kinds would see him as anything short of a traitor. As usual, they would probably turn a deaf ear to his tale if he tried to explain it.

He curled into himself after sliding under the covers of the large canopied bed, and then gently reached out to pull a tie that held the coverings around the bed. He didn't want to see the light right now, and sleep would be best when he was this troubled.

Aragorn awoke to the sensation of blinding pain sprouting from his head. He could tell that he was on some sort of bedroll as he reached up to place his heavy hand on his scalp. His head rang like a choir of bells, reminding him of the time he'd tried to tame a stallion in his youthful childhood. Elrond had a ball laughing at him when Arwen dragged him into the elder elf's study; bruised, bleeding, and babbling like a buffoon.

"Ay! You're finally awake!" The familiar voice of Gimli came to his ears, causing his head to hurt even more. He knew the dwarf meant well, but every blasted sound hurt his ears. He could hear the pounding of metal in the sword smith's workshops and the neighing of horses being tended to, which was odd for him since he rarely would hear anything like that over the wind speaking it's solemn songs and the grasses whispering to one another. Nature was one of the few things he enjoyed listening to, even if it was just to ease his mind. He couldn't understand it like the elves did, but he could recognize the signs they gave and attempted to fill in the rest with what few occurrences he knew of. Like when the wind howled loudly at night, a storm would come the next day for a short time; but if it howled low at morning, it would last all day. Elrond had been very kind to him in his younger years, teaching him of how nature worked as best he could. When he came of age, Elrond seemed to think he was a threat to Arwen's chastity, and began to push him out of the adopted nest. Perhaps as a nod to nostalgia, the elf would give him quick lessons in the ways of the world when his travels brought him close to Rivendell.

He slowly allowed himself to be pushed into a sitting position as kind hands of hobbits and a certain dwarf eased him upwards. He pried his stinging eyes open to see each of the four hobbits and Gimli surrounding him, while Gandalf nursed a pipe in the corner of the room, and Faramir was beside him, glancing at the injured ranger with a look of borderline pity. The hobbits continued their chatter and Gimli gave a gruff laugh, while Gandalf and Faramir smiled in his direction. All were happy to see him and spoke to him so quickly that his still weary brain could not keep up.

"Where is Legolas?" Aragorn asked, unexpected of his own tongue as the words slipped from his mouth. All of the mirthful chattering ceased in a heartbeat. Dire looks cast themselves over the young hobbits, and Gandalf looked as though someone had just told him that his best friend had died. Aragorn tried to get out of bed, but Gandalf's hand stopped him as it rose from its stagnant place on his lap.

"Our beloved Legolas… has been taken by the Dark King Sauron." Gandalf spoke slowly. Aragorn could have sworn he felt his heart stop with those words. He looked around, and then to his lap. This couldn't be true. Legolas was too strong for the evil king to take. He couldn't be… no. He wouldn't think that way yet.

"How… How has he been taken?" Aragorn asked carefully. He feared for his friend's life.

"When Sauron had you at his feet, unconscious and bleeding badly, Legolas stopped him from killing you in exchange for his own life." Gandalf said as he blew out another puff of smoke thoughtfully. The hobbits wouldn't meet Aragorn's eyes, and Gimli looked as if he were on the brink of tears (though he'd never admit to it. Dwarves never cry for such things.). Aragorn rolled his feet of the bedroll, trying to ease himself into a sitting position.

"And… is that all we know so far?" He asked, fearing that the beautiful elf would indeed be dead. He couldn't… wouldn't accept that. Legolas was a kind soul, and a good man. Aragorn had always felt blessed to be in his presence, since beauty on so many levels was extremely rare and usually forged in a life of exile and isolation from all that would corrupt them.

Aragorn knew he was not worthy to be in love with such a being, and forced himself to look for the silver cup in the competition- the Lady Arwen. She was a second, but not a close second. So many things were missing to make him fall in love with her as he did with Legolas. She lacked the astuteness, the speed in battle, the beauty in combat, and the humbleness that made everything complete. He was going to be in a miserable marriage to her, and live a miserable life in longing for Legolas most likely. He had made what little peace he would with that feeling, and tried to move forward… but…something was holding him back. Like a forgotten tie on a large shipping boat, it held him to this port and wouldn't allow him the peace in leaving.

"We have not heard anything since. Good or bad. We can only assume they are holding him for now." Gandalf spoke flatly.

"When do we leave?" Aragorn demanded, sharp eyes glaring at his elder.

"Leave? Leave for what?" Gandalf said as he released his pipe and looked at the young ranger soon to be king.

"Leave to rescue him?" Aragorn roared, making the hobbits tremble at the might in his voice. Aragorn was always very respectful of his elders, but this was the love of his life. Even if he couldn't have this crown, he would protect it with his last breath.

"…We don't, Aragorn." Gandalf said as he placed his pipe back in his mouth. Aragorn's mouth hung open for a moment in shock, and then he turned around and left the room in a huff.

Fine. If no one would help him, he'd save Legolas himself.

"Aragorn! Wait!" Gimli's voice came from behind him. Aragorn shot his head in the direction of the voice, smiling when he saw the dwarf was coming towards him, panting heavily.

"Gimli? What are you doing?" Aragorn asked, mostly to confirm his suspicions. Gimli took one breathless look at him and smirked.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm going with you to save the elf!" Gimli announced happily. Aragorn embraced the man as a friend, holding him roughly and releasing quickly. They made their way towards the stables. They intended to pack quickly.

Gandalf took about ten small minutes of thinking before realizing that they couldn't leave Legolas to such a fate. He threw himself off the chair he'd been sitting on and made his way towards the stables after instructing the hobbits to stay within the Gondor walls. He needed someone to help Faramir watch over the great city while he was still in his dressings after the battle. An orc's blade had severed his tricep, and the medics barely knew how to reattach it. The injury left him useless for battle.

He found the pair throwing their tack together sloppily, rushing to get a move of things. Gimli had found himself a rather nice donkey that could run with any horse, and said beast was trying to eat a carrot as Gimli threw the saddle onto its back. Both of the men glared at the white wizard as he approached.

"Those horses will only help you so far. If you want to get Legolas back, you must allow me to help you." The elder said.

"What help do we need from someone who won't help." Gimli seethed. Legolas was as much his friend as anyone else in the fellowship, and declaring that they should give up before even starting rescuing him really ate at his nerves. He would never leave a friend to die at Sauron's hands. It was against his code.

"I'm helping now, Gimli. I just needed to think of a decent way to get in and out of that wretched tower without drawing too much attention or giving them enough time to mount an attack." Gandalf said as he shoved a piece of bread into the dwarf's mouth.

"Ay… that… makes sense… I suppose." Aragorn conceded. He wasn't too fond of the wizard when he declared that the elf was going to be left as that monster's plaything. But perhaps this was a chance at redemption. Aragorn knew he wasn't one for thinking things threw too much, and on occasion, it had landed him in the arms of a simpering female elf… not that he wasn't dreaming of another elf holding him at said time. No… no…he… he wasn't.

Wasn't at all.

"If I speak to the eagles, they will help us get in and out faster than the horses could. They can fly where horses can only run so fast." Gandalf spoke. Aragorn thought over the proposition for a few minutes, and smirked in Gandalf's direction.

"Ay… to the eagles it is then."

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><p>Review politely please!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Quick reminder for those just now jumping in (on DevArt): Yaoi, one sided Sauron/Legolas, minor possessiveness, Aragorn cursing, Legolas undergoing inner angst, and a few Orcs and dwarves in the mix. Umm… might be mpreg? Really, if you don't like it, I won't be offended if you don't read. But… this is kinda my idea. If you don't like it, just private message me politely and I'll see which way plays out. Kinda feeling this idea out.

Under no circumstances does anyone have the right or approval to reproduce or repost this story. I know where to look, and I don't approve of trolls trying to destroy my confidence by posting a story on 'bad fanfic Friday' over on failblog. It's very insulting to developing writers to do that, and I will be more than happy to alert the mods that it is offensive.

Reviews are very welcome. I take all constructive and polite criticism as a means to better my writing style.

Thank you to all my readers and reviewers! You guys really made me feel better!

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><p>Legolas didn't hate the morning light pouring through the oddly beautiful stained glass window of his current predicament. He loved the way it reflected off the stone floors, and he loved the way light brought color to the world around him. It reminded him of the Mirkwood Forest, with its blooming trees and crisp wind stroking each branch, teaching the wood how to sing its own song of creaking and bending.<p>

On the other hand, waking up was not Legolas's favorite activity.

His head was practically mimicking the drums of war, and his body felt poorly rested, almost like the time he'd fallen asleep on his horse while walking it through the west meadows of Mirkwood. His back stung and his arms felt like someone had replaced them with lead. His legs refused to move more than a few inches, preventing him from really getting up unless he forced them to stop arguing. He glared at the bright light that glistened in pinks, greens, blues and yellows, wishing that the clouds would grant him a few more hours of rest. It wasn't like there was anything for him to do here at the moment anyways. Sauron's last instructions were to stay in this room.

Since Sauron had decided to let him live, he had to be relatively grateful. In such a war as this, Sauron had every reason to kill the elf prince. Tales of his heroism ran across the land as messages of hope to the people, even though he could have sworn they were just being polite to the young elf misfit of the fellowship. The others had their tales as well, but the tale of the beautiful archer was a well known ear mate of every pub in town. He could take down as many orcs in battle as the dwarf and the ranger, all while practically shining with pure light. Radiance like his was rare, even among the elves- and often made him the target of the other boys his age. He remembered all the days that he'd dragged himself into the small bedroom he was given by his father, still bleeding from their most recent torments. They would push him down hills, throw him into the untrained horse pens, and toss him into the river. His father would just stare at him and sigh. Legolas never knew what it meant until he was around his coming of age, when he realized it was shame. That very shame made him want to dissolve somehow, escape life as best as he could.

In the back of his mind, what little self confidence he had left shouted curses at him for even thinking that way, but his heart wasn't in it. He knew he'd be killed in battle one day, but now that he was trapped in his own sold fate, he didn't know where to begin. He wasn't going to go back to the battlefield anytime soon, and Sauron didn't seem to have any plans for him (or any that he could see, at least).

The light disappeared from the closed white curtains, indicating that the clouds had shown him a bit of favor today.

_Perhaps nature heard my thoughts…_ he mused jokingly. He knew in his logical mind that such a thing was impossibility, but his imaginative mind was another story. Since he'd been young, he loved to daydream. It was mostly to find a friend in his own mind when the other boys proved they would rather see him dead than even pretend to be his friend. He dreamed of faraway lands, grand adventures, and meeting new people who wouldn't treat him like the other elves did. He dreamed of flying like the birds and swimming like the fish. He dreamed and dreamed each day of finding a new life, but every time he opened his eyes, he was still lying in his own bed, in his own room, with the same sunlight coming down on him as he lay on his back with the book on his stomach. He hated that room because of it.

He rolled his shoulders to allow himself to turn over, closing his eyes as a smile graced his lips. The birds were singing their choruses again, and his ever so sensitive ears could hear the wind rustling the leaves and the water of the river pittering not far away. It calmed him, just as it did back in Mirkwood. No machines or human voices to be heard…pure bliss.

He hated being confined to such a tiny place with no plants to touch. He loved to feel their fleshy skin against his fingertips, and hear the tiny creaking sounds they made as if they spoke to him. Since he 'wasn't allowed' to speak to the rest of the elves as an equal, he could always speak to the plants. His brothers had forbidden him to speak to the other elves when he was younger, he hadn't really tried to make a connection with the rest of the populous. That was probably why he was in this predicament. Since he held so little value on his own life after years of being told how strange and 'stupid' he was, he had no trouble offering up his own life for Aragorn's.

Thundering footsteps caused the young elf to snap out of his trace, shooting his head upwards as he looked towards the nearest wall. The doors slammed open as an average size orc came through the door, carrying a large tray of food. Legolas could smell it before he came through the door. He knew he should be grateful of the food, since he was a prisoner here. They technically didn't have to serve him anything. And he was growing hungry as the food came closer to him.

He pushed himself off the bed to look at the orc who was probably commanded to bring him food. The orc, who had a horizontal scar across his nose, set the tray down before turning to the bed head ridden elf.

"King Sauron insists that you eat before coming downstairs. He says to take your time, and will meet with you at lunch." The orc said as he bowed and took his leave quickly. Legolas watched the orc leave as he rose from the sheets, turning his body so his feet greeted the ground first. He shivered as the coldness of the stone forced its way up the elf's legs. He lifted the tender soles away from the ground for a moment, and slowly allowed them to meet again. He glanced at the food, carefully reaching for the tray and bringing the plate to his lap. He picked up the fork he was given and prodded at the scrambled eggs. He didn't want to eat the meat that was given to him, mostly because he didn't eat many animal products to begin with, but also because he was still experiencing a rough stomach after being captured the night before. He gladly ravished the apple and strawberries he was given. He loved sweet things, and fruit was definitely his favorite thing to eat. It wasn't uncommon for the elves to enjoy the fruits and vegetables that grew well in the forest and meadows, but Legolas would gladly partake of nothing but fruits on some days. No one ever stopped him, and he was fine with that. Not getting noticed had its perks, mostly when people didn't order you around to their ideals. He knew he couldn't avoid his father's disappointed glares and his brother's taunts, but at least the rest of the kingdom didn't give a crap.

As soon as the fruit was gone, he ate a tiny bit of the eggs and set the plate down to get his clothes straightened out. He stood up and moved towards the mirror on the other side of the room, only to find a set of bright light grayish blue clothes waiting for him. He didn't know when they had arrived in the room, but a sense of insecurity slid up his spine. If he hadn't been awake when they came into his room… what could they have done? Feel him up? Grope him as he slept? Do lewd things to his perfect hair? The bile rose to his throat as he continued to ponder the awful things he could have undergone while he was dreaming. Why the hell didn't he wake up? For Valar's sake- he was a Mirkwood warrior! A Prince! One of the best archers that had ever come out of Mirkwood! He should have been up and ready to fight in the blink of an eye!

The repulsion for himself rose out of his chest again. What was wrong with him? Aside from the years of torment at his family's hands, he couldn't see anything wrong with himself. He enjoyed talking to tree and animals more than humans, disliked eating meat, and found himself enjoying war for… well, he didn't really understand that one himself. Though, he always thought that people wanted a prince to be war-driven.

After his inner rant had subsided, Legolas shed his clothes and tossed them onto the bed. He looked towards the door, listening for a moment to make sure no one was coming before sliding on the pants. They were slightly big, but flattering on his taut waist. The tunic was next, falling over his shoulders and buttoning easily. It hung off his chest slightly, but that was the belt's job to fix. The belt was made from the same material, carefully patterned with a beautiful leaf design and integrated with embroidered flowers. Tying it on his waist brought the tunic in, giving him a slightly more relaxed and borderline feminine look.

He…was not a woman.

And frankly, he hoped that this was Sauron's sick sense of humor coming into play. He actually liked the fabric. It was sleek and slipped across his skin like pure silk. He could practically feel it calming his bed warmed skin to a cooler temperature. Bow worn hands slid across the fabric on his arms, easing it against his skin slowly as he enjoyed the feel of it. That little voice in the back of his head needed to shut up, and that for once in his life he could enjoy a private moment of luxury in the comfort of his 'suite'.

"HEY! Get up in there!" An Orc voice came from outside the door with a heavy handed knock. Legolas dropped his hands and stepped over to the door, answering it quickly. Only his Valar awful brothers woke him like that…

"Ye- Yes?" He choked out as he stumbled against the door. He wasn't expecting someone so soon, but he supposed more time had passed than he'd realized. The Orc staring at him looked relatively annoyed, as if he had better things to waste his time on than fetching the elf prince.

"King Sauron wishes for you to join him in the dining hall…" The Orc seethed. The air of uncomfortable air between them seemed to roast with the fire in his voice and the stench of rotten fish entrails on his breathe. The vomit barely held itself down as Legolas tried his best not to breathe. The orcs were known for eating only the rotten meats, putrid fruits, and molded breads that no person from the other races would even touch; but Legolas never thought it would be this bad.

"Right. Am I to follow you?" Legolas forced out as he did his best to keep his rolling guts in place. Only the ventures to the rocky cliffs would make him feel this uneasy, but he realized he'd been raised in a very clean environment, and the Orcs were anything but clean.

"Get along wit' it!" The Orc growled as they left the open door behind, starting down the stairs to the lower levels. Legolas followed the armored Orc down four flights of stairs to a large room, heavily decorated in deep reds and dark browns. Statues of Sauron and his grand stallion lined the entrance into another room, while more murals of his victories coated the walls with an overwhelming feeling of undeserved achievement. Legolas forced himself to continue to placing one foot in front of the next.

Step by step, he found himself in the dining hall, staring down a very nice deep mahogany table, decorated with plates as large as his torso and piled high with delicious looking food. The royal court of Mirkwood had always had a policy of not taking more than what was needed for a feast. So to see all this food prepared for just one meal was overwhelming. The blonde prince was used to eating little for breakfast and lunch, and perhaps a bit of meat for dinner. For meat to be served at all three meals was an honor reserved for times of celebration, and he was rarely even invited to those. Fruit, vegetables, fish, beef, fowl, pork and breads spilled off their plates and on the table. Certainly one person could not eat this much alone…

"Ah… my dear Legolas." The oddly seductive voice of Sauron came from across the table. Legolas looked over the large flower arrangement to see that the dark elf had taken off his armor for the meal and was sitting in his large, ornately carved golden chair and wiping his mouth while still chewing. So much for table manners…

"Well? Aren't you going to sit, dear prince?" Sauron said with a bizarre smile. Legolas immediately felt the freezing chill run back up his spine as he shivered relentlessly; hiding it well so Sauron wouldn't be offended. This king had offered him food, shelter, and not taken his life when it was freely given to him in exchange for Aragorn's. Legolas didn't want to do anything that might make the King think twice about sparing his friend.

His royal training kicked in, and Legolas took his seat in the chair that Sauron offered a hand to. He allowed himself to be served as he looked back towards Sauron. The King smiled his way as he swirled his wine in his goblet, grinning thoughtfully at the elf prince. That freezing spine chill was back in a flash when Legolas met the King's deep purple black eyes.

"Do tell me, young prince… what holds your interests outside of battle?" Sauron said as his eyes traveled up and down the young prince's body. He made sure that Legolas couldn't see his eyes tracing every curve of his form slowly, daydreaming about that perfectly soft skin dancing against the sheets on the king's bed. The prince was oddly perfect for one who fought so well. The Dark King had seen many warriors in his days, but this one was a rarity. His skin was perfect, unmarred by the trials of battler, and his eyes spoke of the unusual amount of wisdom for his age. Even as an elf, he couldn't have been more than 300 years old, and looked to be just out of his youth at that. Perhaps he had been blessed with youthful traits from his parentage.

"I… like to listen to nature…" Legolas's voice came from his position at the table. Sauron smirked at the slightly timid voice. He knew the elf was holding back his words, if not from politeness, then from fear of what he should say in order to stay on the Dark King's good side. His subjects knew the king as a brutal, fearsome war lord who would sooner slaughter a misbehaving servant than listen to his excuses. This young elf prince would be no different when he was done with him. Sauron had plans to make him a perfect servant and, to some degree, queen. Perhaps a better title would be prince, since queen was reserved for women, but that could wait until later for him to sort out with the comparatively smaller male.

"That's a very... odd thing to say." Sauron spoke, trying to keep the conversation with the younger male. Years of being trapped as a growling voice and burning eye had taken their toll on his social skills, not that they were worth noting before his imprisonment. The human kings had called him a brute and a slob at the dinner's they held. The dwarves had spoken of him as a vile, egotistical king who drank too much (which, coming from a dwarf, was saying a lot against him). The elves never seemed to tolerate his drunkenness, and didn't have their fine wines at their dinners. That alone was probably his saving grace amongst them prior to his confinement. His other crimes destroyed what little reputation he had left with the elves shortly after his last botched attempt at peace.

Peace.

Such a fragile and foolish ideal. War had taught him many things, and the largest by far being that every race sought to expand and destroy. The human, elves and dwarves were no different than Orcs in the end- power hungry and willing to do anything to get their reward at the end of the day. Orcs just didn't have the refinement of the elves archery, the abruptness of the man's swords, or the power of the dwarfs' weaponry. They had the power of the dwarfs' arms, the speed of the elves, and the greed of the men. Which was perfect for Sauron's army.

"Sir?" Legolas said as he stared at the older male, who was lost in his own thoughts.

"Oh- yes. So, you enjoy nature… we have a nice forest here." Forced conversation was not Sauron's strong suit, as thoroughly proven by his accidental insulting of the former Queen of Gondor. How was he supposed to know that calling a woman as beautiful as a tree was an insult?

"My Lord…" Oh that sounded and tasted awful on his tongue. "May I ask you a question?" Legolas asked carefully, knowing very well that this could turn on him at any moment. He was eating lunch with the most dangerous man in Middle-Earth.

"Of course, dear boy." Sauron said as he gulped greedily at his wine. Legolas never had much of a penchant for wine, mostly because it tasted too sour on his tongue.

"Why… Why did you keep me alive?" Legolas proposed. He wanted to know, even if there was little to do about his situation.

"Hmm… my dear prince," Sauron said as he rose from his chair gently, gliding his way to the young elf as he rested a heavy callused on the blonde elf's shoulder. The dark king shifted his body behind Legolas's chair, lining up so their bodies were facing the same direction.

"My Lord?" Legolas spoke, his voice stern but his body was ready to jump up if needed.

"You see… I have many plans for my reign…" Sauron started, making Legolas shift uncomfortably.

"Plans, my Lord?" Legolas countered for the sake of movement between the conversation.

"Yes… and you happen to be exactly what I'm looking for." Sauron said as he lifted his hand from Legolas's shoulder and allowed both heavy paws to slide through the elf's hair, appreciating the silken feeling of the light gold mass.

Silence met his words as the archer shifted against the king's hands.

"You see, I have long to have someone accompany my reign for some time now. Someone who could… understand me." Sauron said as he continued to caress the elf's hair, moving forward as he gently pressed his fingertips into the blonde mass. Legolas shuddered at the hands that had slain so many, thinking of the blood that spilled off those very hands- imagining it drenching his body from head to toe as he sat under the king's movements.

"And… you have not found her yet?" Legolas forced out. The king's hands were unusually close to his neck. Legolas expected him to reach out with those war-worn hands and strangle him at any moment. He could feel the uneasiness crawling up his back like a thousand roaches. He was certain if he looked down, he'd see the blood of thousands of innocent people spilling down his front and into his lap, coating everything he touched.

"No… I have taken many women as my bride, and none of them understood me. Some called me monster, others wouldn't let me touch them, and even more simply wouldn't see the world I had created as a pure realm. A few died for varying reasons, and some were not strong enough to deliver a child to me. But someone like you…" Sauron said as he removed his hands from the elf's hair and moved towards the window to look out at his lands. Legolas recognized the pensive look on his face as one his father had adorned many times before. It was the look of the wise king, surveying his lands for signs of improvement.

"Like me?" Legolas asked as he gently rose from his chair, his food relatively untouched. He had poked a few bites out of his leafy greens and eaten most of his fruit again. A bit of the chicken was missing, but nothing in comparison to the other two.

"Yes… you are from the royal household of Mirkwood, correct?" Sauron asked as he glanced back at Legolas for a mere moment. The silky fabric around the boy made him appear like an angel. So pure… so ripe for the picking… he must have done something right for the Valar to grant him such a wonderful gift.

"Ye… yes…" Legolas gulped out. This was getting too weird for him.

"Then you have the blessing given to you by the Valar." Sauron said as he gently rubbed his index finger against the prince's cheek. Legolas steeled himself, doing his best not to bolt.

"Pardon?" Legolas questioned.

"You, even as a male, may produce children under the correct… accommodations…" Sauron explained as he pulled the now squirming elf back into his seat with a loud thump. Legolas felt the rush of adrenaline as his legs tingled with the sensation of fight or flight.

"My Lord… I… I don't understand." Legolas said as he shuffled in his chair.

"Your father never explained it to you?" Sauron asked as he leaned his weight onto the back of the chair, enclosing Legolas in his shadow.

"No…" Legolas spoke. Ada had never told him about any kind of madness like this. Then again, Ada rarely said more than two words to him each day, so there was a good chance that he wouldn't have told Legolas these things even if he'd had the time.

"Hmm… How sad." Sauron said as he started to walk back over to his own seat at the table. A large thump indicated his body had made contact with the chair, mimicking a large dog hitting a door. He turned his sapphire eyes towards the glistening blue orbs of confusion that decorated Legolas's perfect face. "Well, when given the dew of the morning rose combined with a small spell, your body will change just slightly." Sauron spoke as he watched the boy's eyes grow in terror. It must have been strange to hear such an ordeal, albeit simple in nature. It wasn't like he was losing an arm or growing wings- just sustaining a child in his belly until it was ready to be born. Perhaps a little bone rearrangement, but that wasn't so bad.

"I… I…" Legolas gaped at the older man as he looked between his plate, the ceiling and his own hands as an attempt to get some grasp on the real world.

"Oh dear boy, it won't be painful. It may be uncomfortable, but it won't hurt. After the ritual, you will be able to sustain a child in your body. This comes from a time when there were few female elves, and the Valar bestowed this gift as a means to create more elves."

"I… why me?" Legolas said as he turned his head to look at the dark King. Confusion spun through his head like a whirlwind, making him nauseous and dizzy.

"Because, you are far more beautiful and intelligent than any other royal I've ever met. You are kind, strong, youthful, and wise. I can see it in your eyes. You will produce a perfect heir." Sauron said as he took a long drink of his wine.

"But… certainly there are others… I'm a man after all. This is a little outrageous, if you don't mind me saying." The elfin prince spoke as he held his rising temper. Legolas never lost his temper, and to say that he would have to do something so… so… disgusting! It was implying he had no manhood! What right did this bastard think he had to ask Legolas to do such a thing?

"No other can fulfill this role. I choose you when I saw you in battle. My Orcs have spoken volumes about you after their return to my feet. I thought you'd be much more… brutish." Sauron said, this time not bothering to hide his eyes venturing over the young elf's body. "But you are not… and I find that you are exactly what I need."

"I won't do it." Legolas half barked, trying his best to keep his voice at a proper volume with the king. He started to rise from his seat when the King's dark laughter filled the air.

"If I recall correctly, you don't have a choice in this matter." Sauron said as he leaned back in his chair, as if idling in the elf's turmoil. Legolas didn't understand…

"What are you talking about?" The blonde elf responded. Sauron smirked even wider at him, making Legolas feel like a cornered deer about to be eaten by a wolf.

"Don't you recall? 'My life in exchange for his.'"Sauron mockingly shot. Legolas felt the cold fear rise in his chest as his mind remembered those very words he'd spoken from the battlefield. "I could always go kill the human and release you…" He tempted the elf's well versed mind.

"You said… I…but…" Legolas stammered. He couldn't manage to coagulate a decent thought in his head while he was under this much stress.

"I said I didn't declare what I would do with your life when I had it. This wasn't excluded from the deal." Sauron said as he stood from his chair again. He walked towards the young elf and gently raised his hand to the perfect cheek, caressing it slowly. Legolas could feel his skin crawl under the man's touch.

"You're insane." Legolas growled, doing his best not to bite the man's hand.

"I prefer 'mad genius'." Sauron replied, a sickening smirk decorating his face as he took in Legolas's glare. Even when the archer appeared like a focused hunting dog, he was gorgeous.

"I… would really like to go back to my room, please." Legolas whispered, trying his best to make a polite exit from the King. Even under this pressure, his royal training wouldn't allow him to just leave the room in a huff, dishonoring him and his family.

"So be it… I will see you at dinner." Sauron said as he leaned forward and placed a single, elongated kiss on the elf's forehead. Legolas was too shocked to think, but quickly turned to leave the room as an Orc followed him.

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><p>"GANDALLFFFFF!" Aragorn screamed as he held on for dear life. He was going to die. He was going to die by falling off a damn eagle in the middle of a training exercise! He could already dream of the scavengers peeling the remains of his body off the meadow.<p>

These winged hellions were not horses, and they didn't maneuver or ride like the beautiful beasts. The ungulate and bob up and down, throwing the rider against the wind at 40 feet in the air. Aragorn had never been scared of this beast before now, but just trying to hold on to the feathers of the eagle's neck was difficult.

"YOU BASTARDOUS BIRD!"Gimli wasn't having much better luck. He thrashed and screamed as he tried to hold on to the eagle's back, threatening to behead it as he'd done the Orcs of the earlier battles. Dwarves were not meant to ride in the sky. And no, Aragorn didn't see the dwarf crying. No good friend would.

The heavy laughter that emanated from the wise wizard was enough to make Aragorn vomit more than he already had. He should have pitied the ground below him, but no one had joined them this fair afternoon to watch the ranger and the dwarf screaming for mercy during their first flying lesson.

"Just hang on! Let them do the work!" Gandalf yelled as he calming sat in the air, his own eagle calming patting the wind with its wings as it practically sat on the mild wind. Aragorn's eagle was trying to get its wings in the correct position with the ranger pulling its head back further than it should have gone. The position alone was enough to throw the eagle back, tilting the poor bird in an awkward position as its wings thrashed against the air. Gimli's bird wasn't fairing any better. The poor thing's feathers were coming out in bundles as the dwarf kept trying to get a better grip and was sliding off the birds back. The bird thrashed as its feathers came out, making the dwarf flop to the other side of the bird again. The pair kept this uncoordinated dance going for a while until the dwarf stopped crying enough to sit on the eagles' neck instead, allowing the shoulder blades to take his weight in a stronger seat than its constantly moving back.

Aragorn found himself seated better on his own bird's shoulders. He couldn't quiet reach the tail feathers and the head was too close for his liking. The bird would bite him if it got the chance, much like Elrond's tamed birds liked to do when he was a child. He would rarely walk through the study of the elder elf without getting snapped or bitten. He still had the scar on his ear from where the elf's favorite grey hawk had snipped him when he was nine years of age. He didn't hate the birds for it, though he used to curse them day and night in his immaturity.

"Alright… All… Alright… now… how do you steer this thing." Aragorn hushed, his chest begging for breath as he gasped against the pressure in his body. The bird's movement had beaten his muscles raw, and breathing alone was more difficult than one would expect after such a ride. Gandalf was smiling at the pair, silently wondering how they were going to fair when they brought another person back with them.

"Lean forward to make the bird advance, and sit up to make him stop." Gandalf instructed. Both men followed his orders, slowly understanding how the birds worked for the next hour. Gandalf didn't seem to have much compassion when Aragorn nearly lost his hand to his mounts beak, and Gimli was still red in the face from his anger with the beast.

"Why can't we ride horses again?" Gimli asked, nearly sending Aragorn off his mount when he spoke. Gimli hated horses- yet here he was, asking for the magnificent mounts in favor of the birds.

"Again, Gimli, they just aren't fast or safe enough to take into Sauron's territory. We need to move quickly, and the birds can travel over the mountains faster than the horses can by land." Gandalf said as he watched Aragorn push himself back up on his mount. The ranger didn't seem to complain for the better part of the last few minutes. Then again, the future king seemed preoccupied…

"Aye, faster out of the lands and away from Sauron's power…" Aragorn said as he looked saddened and focused at the same time. Both of the other men knew that when Aragorn set his mind to something, he would not rest until it was completed. His friendship with Legolas was evident to them during the entire journey, and the pain on the younger man's face when he heard that Legolas had been taken by Sauron was enough to break any hardened warriors heart. Gandalf couldn't rest well knowing that Sauron was probably torturing the Prince of Mirkwood as they practiced riding their mounts.

"And the sooner we can get into his territory, the sooner we can get Legolas and get out." Gandalf spoke, trying to be gentle.

"And if Legolas is injured, which is very likely, time will be precious." Aragorn joined back in. Gimli sighed in resignation, trying to get his mount under control as it squawked and fluttered stronger against the wind.

"Sauron was never known for compassion. He was rumored to have killed fourteen of his wives shortly after they were married. Five were killed for not wishing to be with him. Four were killed because they wouldn't give him children. Three were killed because they called him a monster. The last two committed suicide when he locked them away from the world. He supposedly cared for those women, and he still murdered them in cold blood. Legolas won't be in the same boat, so time is of the essence here." Gandalf revealed. Fear and horror spread over the ranger's and dwarf's faces.

"Well then, dear feathered friend. Shall we?"

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><p>Review politely please! Also, feel free to nicely correct me if I botched something badly. I'm still very new to this history.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Got trolled on this fic. Ughh… really? I have to waste time with trolls? Can't we just throw them into Mount Doom? I don't think anyone will miss them.

But seriously, no trolling. I'll just delete it if anyone trolls. Waste of time when I could be having fun with the nice reviewers.

Anyways, um- without shooting the plot here, don't worry- this isn't going to be an mpreg (yet, not feeling the mojo on it…still a possibility). But Sauron is still going to be crazy. Very crazy. Like- 'doesn't know how nuts he actually is' crazy. But being stuck in his position, you would go bonkers too.

I don't own Lord of the Rings or anything associated with it.

My school is embarrassing itself with a club suing it. Greatttt….

Please read and review. It means a lot to me!

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><p>Nightfall was nearing faster than he'd expected. Thoughts of escape had flittered through his mind, but were quickly defeated when he realized that his escape would mean Aragorn's death. He had to think of a way to convince the dark king that he was mentally insane or diseased somehow. Surely Sauron wouldn't want him then. After all, what king would risk contaminating his lineage with an insane mother? And that was assuming this 'procedure' had any real ground to it, which was highly doubtable.<p>

A chilled wind blew through the tower, making a low vibration in the floor as Legolas laid on the bed, trying to mull over the rambling thoughts in his head. Part of him wanted to tell his crazed mind to shut it, but the endeavor seemed futile. He had to find a distraction. Something to keep him occupied until Sauron threw him out of here. If he was convinced enough, he might not even bother with trying to kill Legolas, and just toss him out to the wilderness instead.

The familiar tromping of footsteps caught his attention, pulling his eyelids open and his body upwards as he waited for the door to open. That same Orc would answer the door, as before, and would probably bark at him to join the king downstairs for dinner.

Surely enough, the wooden door flew open, and the angry, disgruntled looking Orc rose up from the slightly darker air of the hallway. He frowned when he saw Legolas standing besides his bed, awaiting his 'orders'.

"Get on wit' it." The Orc growled, making Legolas wonder if everyone in this place was this surly. It certainly wasn't making the elf's mood any better trying to cope with the subtle isolated feeling brought on by the tower and its constant ebbing silence. He needed to hear the trees creak and the creatures of the forest patter about. He needed to listen to the waters giggling to themselves as they carved a new path through the land. He needed… he really didn't need anything. He didn't deserve anything. Just as his brothers told him… that he should be grateful that he was even alive after their mother had died giving birth to him. After all, she was their mother, and his birth had stolen her from them. They never forgave him for that, and he was punished with the truth that he was unwanted. They made sure that he knew, even without saying it, that they would never love him. That very knowledge had led him to give up his freedom for Aragorn. Aragorn had a much bigger, more important life to live. A life that would give him greatness and love from all that he came into contact with… a life that Legolas would never be allowed to live.

They arrived at the same dark, heavily carved wooden doors that held the dining hall. Legolas allowed the subtle fear that pooled at his lower back to dissipate slowly, trying to steel himself for what was ahead. He rubbed his thumb against his outer thigh to calm his rising nerves. He hated feeling so tense when he'd been given such a kind gift of life… but seeing where the gift was coming from, no one would blame Legolas for being on pins and needles.

The doors creaked open as a heavy hand shoved him through the opening, forcing him into the room quickly as the wooden panels began to close behind him. Much like his captivity here, the Orc didn't seem to want to give him any chance to escape dinner with the king.

"Ah, Legolas." The king announced to the empty room. Just standing in this place made the blonde archer feel caged. The king's eyes seemed to bore their way through his back, making the young elf tremble under his skin. Legolas quickly forced himself to turn around and face his host, doing his best not to slip or give off any sign of intimidation. This was Sauron after all- the man was insane. Given, truth be told, Legolas didn't know if any of the 'Valar gift' idea was true; the man reeked of instability and too many years fighting to be comfortable around. And the fact that he wanted to use the young blonde elf to gain an heir (or more) was really beginning to throw Legolas's mind into a spiral of thoughts.

Legolas chose not to respond to the king's welcome. He didn't know if he should.

"Come, sit. Eat." Sauron said rather happily, making the elf shift his body weight onto one foot before slowly approaching. He took his chair, which had been moved closer to the king's position, and picked up his fork to allow himself a few bites before the king spoke again.

"So my dear," Sauron began as he swirled his wine around in his goblet. Legolas looked at the king with large eyes, trying to make himself seem interested in his host's words. "What was your life like before you came into my care?"

"It was… bland." Legolas said as he began to eat his carrot and potatoes. There was a rich roast on the table, but he really didn't want meat on an upset stomach. Two hours of convincing himself that his sore muscles were caused by stress, not fear, had him with tensed muscles and dizzying thoughts.

"Bland?" Sauron said as he watched the elf slowly eat. He would have to remember to get more fruit on his table, since the elf didn't seem to eat any of the meats he'd had placed out.

"Yes… I wasn't well liked." Legolas said, gently testing the waters. Sauron seemed too infatuated with him to allow his temper to get in the way.

"Hard to think that someone like you wasn't well liked. You seem far too pretty to ignore." Sauron said as he reached out to brush a stray hair from the fair face of the youthful elf. Legolas held still as the worn hand pushed the golden mass out of his eyes. The act alone made the elf blush out of estranged kindness.

"Thank you… my lord." The elf prince whispered as he accepted the oddly gentle gesture. He allowed a smile to slip through; perhaps his first brilliant smile since his capture, enwrapping the king in the warmth that his rare smirk gave off. Many would never see his smile, but those who did would cherish it. Legolas was a reclusive person when he was in Mirkwood, so being complimented on a feature was an odd thing.

"Come now, dear boy. Relax. This is your new home now." Sauron said as he got out of his seat, walking over to the window to admire the star lit night. He motioned for Legolas to join him. The prince got out of his chair warily, trying to convince himself that he had to learn to adjust to this new life. Uneasiness crept into the back of his skull, making Legolas edgy and tense.

Legolas took his place a few feet from the king, wanting nothing more than to have the opportunity to bolt if needed. Some part of him knew that Sauron wouldn't have any of that, but it made him feel better knowing that he had a chance at freedom from the king's hands if he needed an out.

"To think…" Sauron began slowly, as if reminiscing on some old, almost forgotten memory. Legolas pulled his attention to the front of his mind to hear the king's words as a heavy hand found its way to the elf's sore shoulder. The bruises he had received in battle were still vibrant on his body, and screamed every time he moved against them. He gritted his teeth as subtly as possible, doing his best not to alert the king to his discomfort. It might be misconstrued if Sauron noticed.

"My lord?" Legolas hushed out, noting that the king hadn't continued what he expected to be a rant or musing of some sort.

"I never thought I would find someone so… tempting… on the battlefield. It must be my fortune to gain such a blessing from the Valar…" Sauron said as he pulled Legolas into the crook of his arm, forming a barrier against the escape plan the elf had forged. The tension in the elf's mind was practically killing him. He tried to think of another way out, until Sauron threw him another curve ball.

In one small movement, the King had pulled Legolas into his front, belly against belly, and pressed his lips against the elf's in a kiss. Legolas struggled, pushing against the older male with all his strength, but Sauron was stronger and held him roughly. The king's hands found his wrists and pulled them uncomfortably behind him back, making his sore shoulder strain in the unnatural position. Legolas tried to call out against the assault, but Sauron's strength held him in place, not even allowing his head to turn enough to be heard. The king's tongue forced itself into his mouth, plundering the heated cavern.

Moments passed until the king released the young elf, allowing the archer to stumble backwards and land against the heavily decorated wall. His hands grasped for a decent hold on the carved stone, his lips burning as he choked out for air. He felt violated, muddied and dirtied. Legolas's hand found its way to his mouth, wiping roughly with his fingertips where the king would not see. The smirk that adorned Sauron's face was enough to make the elf sick to his stomach. He was enjoying the elf's repulsion…

"Why… why did you do that?" Legolas gasped out, willing himself not to run when his mind demanded an answer. His tongue burned for water or wine to wash out his mouth. It felt gooey and mottled, as if someone had forced a rotten carcass threw his lips. Sauron chuckled at the young elf, knowing well that he didn't expect or enjoy the kiss. All manners aside, Sauron held back the urge to slap the prince. No need to gain unfavorable ground with a future queen, right?

"Because, I am your king. And I will take what I want from you, when I want." Sauron replied as he approached the young elf, effectively pinning him against the wall as the king's hands came up to flag the elf's side. Legolas was too stunned to move, and too angry to think straight. He wouldn't become this bastard's whore, even if it was just as kiss.

"Don't you think you should ask before taking such a thing?" Legolas barked. His eyes spoke of his growing hatred for the king, and his voice managed to hide his anger.

"I do not need the permission of an elf prince to take a kiss when he has already pledged his alliance to me." Sauron said as he moved towards the prince, kissing his turned cheek this time. Legolas's skin crept over his muscles as the king's lips remained on his flesh. When he was released again, Legolas took a moment to compose himself. He felt like lashing out, but recalled that the same strength that held him in place only a few minutes ago was still in the king's hands, and could easily restrain him again. He would have to think his way out of this… so brute force wasn't going to work.

"I… would like to return to my room, please." Legolas asked, keeping his voice polite as he stared at the floor. He chose not to meet the king's eyes as the will to gouge them out became stronger.

"No." Sauron's answer growled in his ears as he felt his body seized and lifted against the wall. He struggled and fought, knowing well that he wouldn't be able to force his way out of the king's hold. His hands met Sauron's arms, gripping and shoving as he instinctually flailed and fought back. His mind hissed at his body to stop such nonsense, but for once it refused his will. Sauron's hands found their way to the elf's wrists, gathering them in one hold and holding them off to the side as Legolas glared at the larger being.

"Release me, please." Legolas growled through his teeth, trying not to give the king another opening to attack him. Sauron gave a sickening chuckle at the elf's distress, albeit well covered. He leaned in and inhaled the scent of the elf, taking his time to enjoy the woodsy smell of earth and water that clung to his flesh like the cloth he wore.

"No… I don't think so, Legolas." Sauron whispered against the elf's neck, nipping his ear gently as the elf prince regained his strength. He knew he could fight, but this was no normal adversary. Sauron was stronger than him by at least ten fold. He could feel his wrists bruising against the king's grasp.

"But I am your guest. You aren't suppose to treat your guests this way." Legolas whispered, finding it harder to gain the strength in his voice.

"Not any more… You are mine." Sauron said as he pressed his entire body against the elf's, making Legolas thrash as much as he could. This was never his intention when he surrendered his life to Sauron. This was insanity. This was… was…

"Release me!" Legolas growled once more, hoping to gain some freedom or at least some distance from the king with one last growl.

Sauron kept his assault on Legolas's neck, biting and licking where appropriate. Legolas felt his body being shoved along the wall and onto a nearby small table. He struggled and flailed as Sauron slobbered on him.

"My lord-" A voice came from across the room, finally allowing the elf to breathe as Sauron lifted his head from the elf's body. Legolas's body drooped at the freeing feeling as Sauron's heated breathe left his neck, which now felt gooey, sore and sticky.

"Yes…" The king hissed, unsavory anger clear in his façade.

"My lord, our forces to the east just reported an army headed this way. They claim to carry the flag of Gondor." The Orc said as he stood at attention in front of the king. Sauron, dismally enraged that his time with Legolas had been cut short by an advancing army, released the elf and adjusted his clothing.

"Tell the generals that I will be there momentarily." Sauron spoke to the Orc. He then turned to Legolas, who was massaging his bruised throat as he tried to reclaim air into his lungs.

The elf could only glare at the king with partially saddened, partially angry, starlight eyes. Sauron could have stood there for ages just taking in the beauty of those eyes.

"My servant will return you to your room. Good evening, dear Legolas." Sauron said as he brought his hand to caress the elf's tender skin one more time. The flesh under the king's fingers shivered in disgust. Legolas waited until the king was out of the room to push himself off the table edge, gaining his leg strength back as he started to walk towards the awaiting Orc. Each step he took seemed to be weighted down by unseen bricks attached to his feet, and the journey back up the stairs took longer than the forth coming trip. Legolas's mind was in a tizzy. Thoughts after horrible thoughts came to his mind. What if this procedure had some weight to it? And he was forced to bear Sauron's heir? What if it had no backing, and Sauron was just crazy enough to believe it did, and carried on as if Legolas was pregnant? What if the insane king decided that Legolas was worthless to his cause if he couldn't bear him a child? Now that he'd been spared once after forfeiting his life, the idea of losing it to such an unworthy cause was humiliating.

What if… what if Aragorn, Valar bless him, actually came to save him?

What if he was with child?

What if Aragorn saw him as a traitor?

Oh these thoughts were going to be the death of him long before any blade could.

"Rest well, elf." The Orc offered, most likely forced to by his master.

Legolas nodded in return as he listened to the door close behind him, then took his place on the bed. He kicked off his boots and curled into himself while facing the moonlit window. His prison cell had never felt so confining until now. He really was going to be forced to be Sauron's consort. The weight of reality was pressing on his chest now, crushing what little hope he had left in the back of his heart. He felt it slowly snuff out as the ideas of living a miserable ten thousand year life without ever knowing the man he'd loved flooded his mind. His brothers and father would probably be laughing at his fate right now. Valar, they were probably going to throw a huge feast knowing that the center of all their problems was gone for good- killed slowly by Sauron. Perhaps they would have Aragorn at the head of the table, toasting to his greatness in battle and for bartering off the bratty elf prince.

Legolas grabbed a pillow from the perfectly made bed and held it to his chest, breathing in the scent of clean linens. If he couldn't have what he longed for, he could at least appease his dying dreams with more dreams of what life could have been. He was a man, so no tears fell on his pillowed dream, just as nothing in his heart hurt so badly.

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><p>The skies were clouded tonight, which only hastened their smooth ride over the battlefields and camp grounds filled with Orcs and Uruk-hai. Gimli had even managed to silence his tongue as they rode the streamline beast into the valley. Thankfully, the hobbits hadn't been with them. They tended to get underfoot, but in this case, their mission was already done. They would have to stop for the night soon, since flying took more time and energy at night. Despite the eagle's legendary vision in the daylight, night time wasn't as kind. They couldn't have been more than a day away, but this land was foreign to any maps they had. Rivers and forests had been diverted when the Orc armies came, so all of their maps were outdated. They could barely tell where they were from this view.<p>

Aragorn didn't care if it took them weeks, they would find the elf prince. If they could just figure out which of these peaks held the citadel that served as Sauron's keep, they could find Legolas. The job was easier said than done… since many of these mountains looked the exact same and few had any distinguishing trees or features left on them.

As they brought the three birds down, they took cover in a heavily rocky area. If nothing else, they might be able to find a quiet cave to speak in. if they were lucky, this mountain wasn't inhabited by any Orc scouting parties. The journey had taken a lot of energy from them, and this was just the first day.

"I hope the laddie is still in one piece." Gimli spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence between the three men. The birds cooed and pittered in their own tongue, looking to each other for their own thoughts on the journey. Aragorn stopped setting up his simple bedroll to think about the elf, not that his tired thoughts would allow him to deviate from the blonde elf's image. Gandalf seemed to stop smoking his pipe, and thoughtfully looked out at the barren landscape.

"He's… strong." Aragorn replied, trying to keep up some hope that Legolas was still alive.

"Sauron isn't known for his generosity. Legolas…" Gandalf began, slightly worried for the elf. Gandalf was still on good terms with Elrond and Thranduil, and feared that if something happened to either of the young males in his care, they would have something awful against the wizard. He had seen few interactions with Thranduil and his sons in the past, but even with such few samples of his affection towards the boy- Gandalf knew that the youngest was treated poorly. Perhaps the elder brothers didn't see how much it hurt him, but Gandalf in his wisdom could easily see it. Gandalf also knew that poor Thranduil still held a grudge against the Valar for taking his beloved wife away during Legolas's birth. It was the boy's misfortune that he looked almost exactly like his fair mother- graceful, beautiful, wise and young. He could see it in Thranduil's eyes that it pained him just to see the young elf. He missed her terribly, but chose to rarely interact with Legolas in turn. No mother would wish the treatment that Legolas condemned himself to when he came of age. The boy spent long hours alone amongst the trees, tending to the creatures of this world instead of making friends or talking to elves his own age.

Somewhere in his heart, Thranduil still cared for his youngest, but anyone could see the Legolas wouldn't believe it. There were too many times he'd been pushed into the river by his brothers and ignored by his father to believe that anyone would want him around. Gandalf would have a few words with the thick headed king of Mirkwood when he next saw him. Chances were, at the rate they were going, it would be when the family came to collect the elf's body.

Perhaps… it would be better to allow Aragorn to mourn the death of the blonde elf instead…

Perhaps the king of Gondor would at least have some more decency than the Mirkwood royals, in this case…

"Legolas is strong… he is brave and true…and he is smart. He will find a way to survive."

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><p>Thank you to all my readers and reviewers! You guys have kept me going!<p>

Also… next chapter might get a bit bumpy. Fair warning ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

Major thanks to for correcting some of my wording. I'm human, and this is unbetaed. I will make mistakes. Please pm or leave a review where I can see what to correct please! It makes the story better! I love my reviewers, especially the ones that keep telling me to write more soon. It really keeps me going. Now, assuming my courses don't crush my toes again, I'll write as much as I can.

I don't own Lord of the Rings.

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><p>Legolas awoke to heavy hands holding him down. Many hands- rough and battle worn- forcing him back into the mattress. He screamed, only to realize that his face was covered with a piece of fabric- perhaps a pillow case or a rag. Not tightly, but enough to mask the sound of his calls. He tried to thrash, but all of their strength combined was too much. He could hear words being spoken, and felt the familiar hands of Sauron on his abdomen. He tried to kick, flail, anything that would defer the hands and mouths from their ritual-<p>

Oh no.

No no no.

They were performing the ritual now!

Legolas fought with regained strength as the words stopped and the fabric was removed.

Sauron's face came into view and moved towards him. The king's lips met his as his battle worn hands gripped the prince's jaw roughly, forcing the hinges open. Lips met roughened lips- unwanted and fighting. Legolas felt a foul fluid pour down his mouth and into the back of his throat. He tried not to swallow, but an unexpected elbow to his chest forced him to gasp for air, allowing the fluid to flood his throat and slide into his stomach. The hands released him as the king laughed. The Orcs that helped him released the elf, backing off and some running from the room as the elf coughed and sputtered. When all of the extra Orcs were gone, Legolas glared at the king. His sides began to burn, tearing through his stomach and lower intestines. The prince could only allow himself to topple over and grip the sheets in pain. His intestines twirled and gripped painfully, pulling in ways they were never meant to. He could have sworn he felt something tear away from his internal walls.

"Please… please… make it stop…" Legolas begged as the pain became unbearable. His mind swam in dizzying circles, up and down, and fluttering with shapes he'd never seen before. He felt his body slide off the bed and slam into the cold stone floor. He felt his eyelids opening -when had they closed? He felt the hands of Sauron resting on his shoulder, and a warming air approaching his face.

"Relax, my love. It will all be over very soon." Sauron said as he pushed the elf's hair out of his eyes. Legolas clinched again as his insides tore. The pressure on the back of his skull increased, making him nauseous. His world spun once more, and darkness took him.

He could have sworn he heard the king laughing as he fell into an unexpected state of unresponsiveness.

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><p>The surface he was on felt soft, like a cloud.<p>

He felt warm, but soothingly so.

He remembered he shouldn't have been warm- he landed on the floor.

But… why was he on the floor at all?

Sauron.

Legolas pushed himself up from the bed slowly, noting how nauseous he felt. He propped himself on his elbows and took in his surroundings.

Nothing in his room had changed. The stone floor and walls remained the same, and the windows were still their bright, stained glass. The chairs and table were still in the same positions he had seen them the night before, but seemed to have had something set on them since the evening. Legolas couldn't help but try to gently maneuver himself into a sitting position. His entrails twisted and burned as he sat up, screaming for him to stop. He froze as the pain took over again, intestines knotting themselves over and over in his abdomen. He pressed his palm into his stomach, attempting to ease the pain.

He could hear birds chirping outside his window. The elf prince forced his head to turn to see the window. The sunlight indicated it was around midmorning… so they must have performed the ritual in the early morning. But why?

The door opened slowly, as if the intruder was trying to be silent in his presence. Perhaps someone in this hell hole had some decency.

He heard a tray being set down and movement towards the door. The curtains were pulled, so he couldn't see who was in his overly decorated room. Legolas allowed his head to fall the short distance back onto the pillow. The Valar must have thought his head was a war drum.

The movement outside his curtains returned, and the light permeated his eyelids as the curtains were pulled back. Legolas couldn't hold back his moan of discomfort as the light beat his bright blue eyes. It caught the attention of his visitor.

"You're awake." An Orc's voice came. Legolas lifted a pained hand to his face, covering his sore eyes. He hated that angry voice… it was making him pissier than he already was. Why couldn't Sauron send a dog to tend to him? At least the dog would have been nicer.

"Mmm…" Legolas growled out as he turned to his side to avoid contact with the Orc. In return, the Orc walked back to the tray of food that he'd brought with him. Legolas didn't feel like eating, but his mouth decided to water at the exact wrong moment.

"King Sauron says the elf has to eat, so the bratty elf will eat." The Orc snuffed in his direction. Legolas wanted to glare at the rude Orc, but thought better of himself not to. He pried his wrist away from his eyes for a moment to scan for his trusted bow and quiver. Neither were found on the side of the room he'd left them. Legolas hauled his torso upwards again, noting that his head hurt a little less this time. His intestines decided to rebel against him less on this round.

Legolas watched as the Orc turned from his position at the table and half bowed (slightly mocking him) as he left the room with a disgusted smirk. Legolas held his position on the bed for a few more minutes, allowing his bed head to settle and his pain to stop. He slid himself off the warm surface and to the floor, urging his legs to work properly. They barely carried his weight as he stood and rose to the table. He noticed that his bow and quiver were gone, leaving him at the mercy of whoever decided to mess with him this time.

He grabbed his fork and speared a piece of fruit, eating slowly as he gazed out the window. He hated being confined, but at least he wouldn't be barred from the natural elements this time. The Orc had left the window open, and a slightly putrid breeze was allowed to waft in. He could stand the minor annoyance of the smell of rotting things if it meant that he could feel something from his beloved realm on his skin.

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><p>Mirkwood<p>

"What do you mean he's been captured by Sauron?" Thranduil was not pleased by the messenger's news. Gandalf, that damnable wizard, had sent this news by a messenger? This was not something he wanted to hear from a messenger! This was very important!

"Father, please, calm down." Mablung tried to calm his father. It was serving no real use, but Thranduil wasn't the calming kind when it came to bad news.

"Father, please, this behavior will do us no good. We should ride to Gondor to find a plan with their king. Legolas was friends with him, and he may know what has become of him." Glorfindel added in. Thranduil wasn't having any of it, throwing himself off his throne and pacing around the alter.

"Get out of my sight." The king growled at the young messenger, who was terrified of the king's current anger. Never since Finglofin's accidental destroying of the Mirkwood bridge had Thranduil been so angry. Said son was currently too afraid to speak up, knowing very well that his father's anger wasn't to be trifled with.

"Father, we are wasting precious time. Our archers are ready to leave for battle as we speak." Mablung growled, refusing to leave his brother to Sauron's hands for long.

"This would be considered an act of war. Stealing the youngest prince of Mirkwood…" Glorfindel chimed in.

"What do you three care? You've always hated your brother." Thranduil barked back at the three imbeciles. His tolerance for the treatment of Legolas had waned a long time ago. He really did love his sweet, youngest son- but every time he saw that beautiful boy's face, he quickly remembered his mother. That when the freezing chill of pain shot through his chest, and he lost the will to speak to his youngest. It killed him to know that Legolas wasn't well adjusted around Mirkwood either. He wanted his last son to be happy. He wanted his last son to be joyful and free of such condemning solitary

"Hated? We never hated him!" Mablung roared, his rage boiling over at his father's assumption. Thranduil hadn't really paid attention to what the brother's did when they were younger, so he wasn't too in tune with how the brother's saw their youngest.

"I'll consent that we may have been… brash… with him in the past. But our love for Legolas extends past every mountain between here and Mordor." Glorfindel added in. He loved his youngest brother, and held his own rage by the collar. He didn't want to disrespect his father, but he was borderline willing to start a war to get Legolas back, and wasn't in the mood to compromise between a frustrated king and a gaggle of generals who didn't know what to do at the moment.

"I'd slay ten thousand Orcs just to see a smile on his face. Father, please, we want to help. Will you deny us the right to save our brother?" Mablung growled, causing both of his remaining brother's to jump. He was very 'persuasive' when he wanted to be.

"Nay… just as I would do the same for my son." Thranduil relented, his tense muscles releasing themselves as he saw the sheer emotion in his three remaining sons eyes. Fear was there, as was hope and devotion. "Quickly then, gather your horses and meet our army at the grand arch. You leave by midday." Thranduil spoke.

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><p>Aragorn, Gandalf and Gimli managed to make it to the border of Sauron's kingdom by nightfall. By midmorning, they had flown to the small town around the citadel, and were currently harbored by their dark cloaks in the outer woodlands. The forest's scent here stuck like death, putrid and stinging their noses. The ground seemed poisoned, the dead earth not letting a single shard of green health slip through its clutches. Aragorn could feel the pain of the forest. Its death had been slow and recent. Elrond had been generous with his education when he was younger. Aragorn couldn't be more thankful to know the man. He'd raised him well, and made sure that when the day came that the Ranger wandered from Rivendel, the man known as Aragorn was ready to take care of himself.<p>

"Where do you think they are keeping him?" Gimli asked.

"Tallest tower, there." Aragorn replied, causing both of the other men to raise their eyebrows at him. Aragorn stopped for a moment and then shrugged.

"What makes you say that, friend?" Gandalf chortled.

"It might be the hardest place to get to, assuming rescuers wouldn't have flight." Aragorn said as he patted the bird behind him. Their feathers camouflaged them perfectly in these woods.

"So, how do we get up there? We can't just take all three birds in at once. At least one would be killed." Gimli stated. Aragorn nodded in agreement.

"I'll steak one of the horses and ride in to get Legolas. Gandalf, can you make a distraction of some sort to get their attention?" Aragorn asked.

"What kind of distraction are you thinking of?" Gandalf asked.

"The kind of distraction that usually involves fire and explosions, preferably." Aragorn replied with a smirk. Gandalf had to chuckle at that idea. Fire and explosions seemed to follow him around given the right conditions.

"I'll see what I can do." The wizard replied.

"Gimli, you'll have to ride your eagle up to the tower when the distractions are about half way through." Aragorn ordered. Gimli gave a gruff huff of approval and turned towards his bird.

Aragorn turned back to Gandalf and nodded, and then started for the horses.

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><p>Ok, that's where my brain stopped working. Foofy dumplings. Yup… stopped working.<p>

Anyways, please review. I really love all my reviewers, even if I can't reply to each one.


	5. Chapter 5

My brain kinda fizzled on this chapter. But I like where I got it to. It's more or less a filler. Kinda sad and cute… but mostly sad. Please don't hate me. I had to kill someone from the main characters.

Me no own.

Please review. It means a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed the story so far, but I promise, this will be the saddest chapter of this story. It only gets better (and more drama-y) from here.

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><p>The distraction had worked! Aragorn had a perfect shot to the keep. And barring a few scratches he'd obtained when the last few guards had caught onto his run, all was well. He made it all the way up the stairs when he heard the second round of distractions firing. It sounded as if Gandalf had hit a powder keg or something, with metal slamming into wooden structures and a distinct echo of wood crumbling against the ground.<p>

When he reached the top floor, chest burning with a mixture of desire and exhaustion brought on by the climb, Aragorn didn't hesitate to kick the door open. He eyes met the worst sight they had ever seen-

Legolas strewn across the bed, bare as the day he was born and unconscious. Sauron stood half nude with a smirk of defiance slathered on his face.

Hatred gathered in his face as he slashed his sword towards the king with a primal roar. Sauron barely dodged and gave the ranger gone king a rough kick to the chest, throwing him into the table. Shattered wood scattered around the room as Aragorn picked himself back up. Sauron's foot met his head and held the younger man down to the floor.

"Fool. Did you think you could break into my keep and steal back your man?" Sauron said, gladly crushing Aragorn's skull into the floor. The ranger gathered his strength to glare at the man, only to be met with a cruel smirk.

"He is a royal of Mirkwood… and a good friend. I'd fight for him any day." Aragorn growled as he was kicked over onto his back. Sauron laughed at the young king, knowing that he was too noble for his own good. Aragorn took the moment to grab his sword that lay nearby.

"You are too late. I've already seeded him with my heir. He is mine, now." Sauron mocked, roaring in laughter until Aragorn rose his blade to impale it in Sauron's thigh. The horrid king roared in pain as he fell backwards, gripping his leg in pain. Aragorn capitalized on the moment, throwing himself from the ground and grabbing Legolas's belt, quiver and bow. He threw them all over his shoulder before gathering the beaten, bruised and bleeding elf that lay unconscious on the bed. He could replace the clothes later without too much trouble, but such weaponry was likely heir loomed to the prince. A rare gift from an odd father, or perhaps another relative that was kind to the youngest of Mirkwood's royals. Legolas rarely spoke of his family, but if Gandalf's tales were any account, Legolas wasn't given much attention. All the more reason to save the young prince from this fate.

Sauron grabbed at the pair from his crawling position on the floor, blood seeping in his trail as he struggled.

"You cannot keep him! He is mine!" Sauron roared as blood spurted from his leg, coating the floor more in the sticky, deep red goop.

"Was yours. I'm stealing him back. Unless you seek a war with all remaining men, elves and dwarves, I implore you to remain where you are." Aragorn yelled back to the king as he kicked out the window and perched on it. Gimli was right on time, passing close enough for Aragorn to jump with his priceless package onto the bird's back.

The King of Gondor could hear Sauron's roar as they landed on the bird. They met Gandalf on their way back to the other side of the mountains, and rearranged so Aragorn had Legolas in front of him for the nearly silent ride back.

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><p>Aragorn remembered spending the night in the woods before the half way check point. They didn't want to stop, but the needed to let birds rest and take note of Legolas's injuries. They found a good spot in a thick grove of trees, sheltered by rocks and old branches where no light could peak through and give away their position. A small fire under a propped up cloak proved to keep the light from the flames as private as possible.<p>

None spoke when they observed the elf. It was too tense to force a voice out and chance waking the elf. Scratches and bruises adorned the otherwise flawless skin on his hips, where claw like fingers had torn into the beloved elf. Aragorn felt a thick air of anger and repulsion rise in his throat. How could anyone treat his Legolas like this? Legolas was always so kind and good to everyone he met? Did Sauron just take pleasure in ripping apart anything perfect he found?

And poor Legolas… How would he take this when he awoke? Such defilement at the hands of a monster such as Sauron- surely the elf would be broken. Aragorn knew the beauty was resilient, but against this? The knowledge that throughout all his hardship, good naturisms, and kindness- in the end, he was used as a monster's attempt at a good lay? With the insane idea that the elf could bear children? Aragorn had heard myths of the Mirkwood's royals abilities, but thought them nothing more than a jest against the boredoms of freedom. When there were few battles and obstacles to gossip about, people made up the stupidest rumors.

When they bedded down for the night, silence still hanging in the air with the smoke from remainder of the extinguished fire, Aragorn wrapped his arms around Legolas's still and slightly cold form. He prayed to the Valar that his love would survive. He prayed that nothing would take the prince from him again. He couldn't bear it. They had been through so much together, too much for Aragorn to lose. Aragorn swore it would have killed what little faith he had left in the world if Legolas died.

Yet, for the first time in years, he gladly slept comfortably. He had no dreams of destruction or devastation, or watching his family killed before him. He had to think that it was Legolas's presence that made all the difference.

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><p>It had been four days since the flight from Sauron's keep. Elrond had requested that no one speak to him in his study when they first arrived. And of those days, Aragorn had spent every hour looking for Arwen. It had been ten long months since he'd seen her, and he missed her dearly. Even if his love for Legolas was president above all others, Arwen held a special place in his heart. She was his confidant, and never got bored with his war stories. They were trying to have children when Aragorn was called to the battlefields by Sauron's resurgence. A king needed an heir, after all.<p>

It was on this day that Aragorn was invited into Elrond's study. Something seemed off. Elrond was unusually quiet. He normally welcomed Aragorn into his study with open arms and a bright, wise smile. So the cold, silent demeanor and heavy bags under the typically well rested elf's eyes were spies to a dark cloud that hung in the room.

Aragorn quietly took his seat as Elrond's guards closed the door behind him. Aragorn sat quietly, hands folded as he was taught to, and waited. Elrond rubbed his tired eyes passively before speaking.

"She's gone." The lord said flatly, as if he had no energy to speak.

"My lord?" Aragorn inquired. Who was gone? What was he talking about?

"She… was pregnant when you left." Elrond said. Aragorn felt his back tense.

_No. NO. Not this… _

"Where's Arwen?" Aragorn said as he forgot all diplomatic and prestigious manners, shooting out of his chair and demanding information.

"She… She died in childbirth." Elrond broke down, hands covering his grim face. He'd cried so long for his daughter, and was empty at the moment.

"She… no… she- She can't be gone." Aragorn said as he slumped back in the chair, frustrated tears pouring from his eyes. Elrond allowed the man a few minutes to cry with a gentle hand on his back. He was still like a son to the elf lord, and it hurt him to see the man in such pain.

"She did leave you something though." Elrond calmly said as he tried to calm the younger man. Aragorn rose his head from his hands, eyes bloodshot and salty with tears.

"What?" Aragorn managed to whisper out. Elrond wiped the tears from his son-in-law's face and rose from his chair, motioning for the younger man to follow. Aragorn dragged his feet along the path Elrond took, trying to keep up, but finding the will to keep going dying with each step. They arrived at an unused room near the quiet garden of Elrond's house. It was right beside the lord's personal chambers, and was adjoined to his rooms via a small hallway. Aragorn's fried brain couldn't process what it could be until a small crib came into view. The king could feel a lump in his throat rising as he neared the crib. Why hadn't he been told that she was with child? He would have come home immediately if he'd known. He didn't want his wife and child in danger while he was away. He loved Arwen… and now- now all he had left was sleeping in the cradle before him.

A chubby little face, slightly red from his last crying bout, remained motionless as the infant slept. His small hands were balled into loose fists and barely peaked out from underneath his small ornate blanket. Aragon reached down to lift the baby carefully from the cradle, holding him gently against his chest. He was perfect, despite the sad beginnings of his life. He had the elves perfect skin, dark hair, and didn't seem to have any odd markings what so ever. Chances were he was going to have an exceptionally long life thanks to his parentage.

"What is his name?" Aragorn asked as he ran a rough hand through the child's curly, dark brown locks. He couldn't tell if he had Arwen's hair, or mimicked his father's features. The babe barely opened his mouth as he snuggled into his blankets, trying to regain the warmth lost from the crib as he wiggled his tiny fists against Aragorn's chest.

"Arwen was insistent that you name him. She didn't get much of a chance to hold him before she passed. It was very quick, and the midwife couldn't explain what had happened. The healers couldn't do anything for her either." Elrond said as he rested a hand on the child's head. The baby wrestled its wrappings again, trying to descend into the warm coverings. Aragorn pulled the baby up to press a kiss into his tiny forehead.

"I'll need to think. He deserves a good name." The king said as he rewrapped the coverings and started to rock the child gently.

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><p>Next Day<p>

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><p>"Are you going to see your friend?" Elrond asked as he continued to sign his documents. As unfortunate as losing his beloved daughter was, work never ceased. Thankfully, some of his advisors had been kind enough to hold back the important documents that he normally handled. Aragorn had been playing with the tiny baby all morning in Elrond's study. The elf could sense that the king was afraid to be alone with the precious babe, just in case he needed help with the child. It had been a long time since he'd attended to children, and he wasn't as prepared as other fathers would be. After all, most had a nine month warning to prepare for the arrival. They had time to learn about what the baby needed and what to check when it cried. Aragorn had just been informed less than a day ago that his wife was dead and he had a son. A son that still needed a name.<p>

"Soon. He is resting at the moment. I fear he may not awaken." Aragorn replied, rocking the child gently in his arms. The simple privilege of marrying into elfin royals was the seclusion of space. Rivendel was usually quiet on an average day, but Elrond had kept his study away from the front of the house for privacy. Which made this place all the better to keep a newborn. It was quiet and no one would fawn over him while he rested. There was also a small private garden just outside the doors, but with the grey clouds reflecting the mood on a skyward canvas, it seemed like a better idea to keep indoors today.

"Thought of a name yet?" Elrond asked, more out of needing to break the silence than insistence. Aragorn was still too stressed from all the events that happened over the past week to think of a name for his first, and perhaps only, child. He now had the task of finding the baby a new mother… and that was saying that he could move forward with his own issues with Arwen's death and choose another mate. All the while, the man he really loved was unconscious in the west wing. Personally, he was surprised he hadn't had a heart attack from the stress.

"No… have the healers told you anything about Legolas?" Aragorn asked, trying to keep the light conversation going.

"They say he will recover well. He should wake in the next day or so. Although, it is clear Sauron wasn't kind." Elrond replied as dipped his quill back into the ink. He shot a sly glance at the shocked Aragorn.

"Who told you?" Aragorn stammered out. He thought that secret was going to be safe with his friends. No one should have known what Legolas had to go through.

"Your friends, the hobbits, wouldn't stop talking when they arrived in the middle of the night last week. And the dwarf seems to think it's a wonderful tale for the ages. He told me the night you got in. Thankfully, Gandalf filled in the details of what happened when the stories weren't coming together." Elrond replied. Aragorn let his tense shoulders fall back into position as the baby awoke, moaning in discomfort at his unexpected rearrangement. Aragorn started to rock him again to get the baby back to sleep.

"My lord, would it be alright if I left him with you while I go to check on Legolas?" Aragorn asked, fearing that he was imposing his child on his father in law. Elrond smiled at the man and nodded.

"It's fine, my son. I should tell you though, we have received word that his brothers will be arriving shortly. Thranduil's sons apparently took great offense when they heard Legolas had been captured." Elrond told the man as he set the baby back down in his crib and covered him with his blankets. He pressed a small kiss to the baby's head and turned back to Elrond.

"I take it they are on the warpath?" Aragorn asked. Elrond nodded again as Aragorn headed for the door. He couldn't waste time. Chances were he wouldn't be allowed to see Legolas after his family arrived. They were known for being very protective.

"I'm sure they are…" Elrond responded as Aragorn left.

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><p>Please tell me if I botched something. I'm human and I make mistakes. Will correct if you note me or review… please review! I love my wonderful, awesome, epic reviews who keep me going!<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you all for reading this far. Please leave a polite review after this chapter, if you don't mind. I really do enjoy reading them and have taken a lot of the comments into consideration. I'm trying to integrate them as we speak, but I want to keep the past chapters as they are for now. If things change, I'll revise as needed.

Read and review please!

I don't own Lord of the Rings, and make no monetary gain off this. Confidence is another story.

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><p>Legolas remembered waking to a sense of floating. His body felt light as a feather, but he still couldn't feel his limbs as well as he liked. His eyes refused to open, but the smell of the waterfall and the nearby gardens with their rare and exotic flowers told him more than his eyes needed to see. He was in Rivendel. He'd know the smell of these woods anywhere. They were cooler and more varied than Mirkwood's fair trees, but held more flowers.<p>

When his ears decided to join his senses, he could hear muffled talk in the background. The familiar voices of his brother's and a healer reached his ears. The healer that had patched his arm before he left with the Fellowship was remaining very calm, but his brothers seemed to be rather ruffled. He could hear their hushed, but borderline crazed voices trying to pry information from the healer, who was losing the battle with his patience for the brothers.

"We get that, but why was he even there?" Mablung's voice came echoing into the room, shattering the quiet of the medical ward.

"I can answer that." Aragorn's voice came from behind them. The two brothers jumped when Aragorn spoke. The king motioned for the healer to leave them.

"Well, the great King of Gondor graces us with his presence! We must be soooo honored." Glorfindel sarcastically growled.

"I apologize for my absence. I have recently lost my wife, and our child needed a father while trying to be the best friend I could to your brother." Aragorn spoke rather flatly, exhaustion lacing his voice. Legolas, still unable to move his tired body, could only feel his heart shake at the revelation. Arwen was dead? Aragorn had a child? What in the name of the Valar had happened while he was out? How long was he unconscious? His family was actually here? Was Mirkwood destroyed? Why else would his brothers, who hated him since he was born, be at his bedside? And where was his father?

"I… I'm so sorry, good king. I apologize for my brashness." Mablung apologized.

"It's is alright. You deserve the explanations you have asked for. And you'll have them, but let us take this elsewhere. I would hate to wake Legolas with any outbursts." Aragorn spoke again. Legolas didn't want them to leave. And, carving for answers, he mustered his voice and tried his best to speak.

"Mupfhh…mummmff." Legolas's lips refused to open, so his voice came out as a muffled grumble. He could hear motion around him, and felt the bed he was lying on shift as several hands landed next to him. The surface reverberated against the force of the hands scrambling across the bedding.

"Legolas?" His brother's voice came. He could feel a worried hand searching his face for any signs of motion. Legolas managed to pry his weak and trembling eyelids open to see three confused, then elated faces. Aragorn was the first to throw his arms around the young prince, pushing his body up slightly on the mattress. He wanted to hug the new king in return, but found his arms were too exhausted to move. He sighed appreciatively as he felt the former Ranger's breaths hitch. He hadn't expected this much emotion from any of these men. So when he pried open his eyes to see Mablung trying to wipe away evidence of his momentary emotional outburst. Glorfindel was holding back his own tears, but his reddening eyelids betrayed him. Legolas could only let out a small, drug induced smile. He was certain in a few hours this would all change, but through his confusion and momentary fear, he needed to feel wanted right now.

Aragorn attempted to rise up from his position, but Legolas weakened clutch on his tunic prevented him from moving too far. The king looked at the prince and searched for an answer. When Legolas's tired smile met his eyes with a silent _'Stay'_, he couldn't refuse the elf's wishes.

"Legolas-" Mablung started as the weary elf held up one finger to cease his ranting. Mablung and Glorfindel quickly bowed to the king and the youngest prince before ushering themselves out of room without another word. Suspicion laced their minds, but they quietly left it with the pair as they exited the room. What else could they want to be alone for?

Once they were gone, Legolas's hand gave a tiny tug at Aragorn's tunic. The fabric wasn't going to give much to the archer's grasp, but it was enough for the king to climb onto the bed and settle himself snuggly into the curvature of Legolas's left side.

This was his chance.

He could… he could do it…. No one would realize it. Legolas was out of it, he wouldn't recall this later.

No. He shouldn't take advantage of his friend. He didn't even know if Legolas was into men. Ok, it was a logical idea that he _could_ be, since over half the men in each race openly loved with their men. What could he say; few babies made it to adulthood, and less than half the girls had made it in the past few decades. Why? Pestilence seemed to make up a good chunk of all the deaths, but the rest weren't really accounted for. Though, it wasn't uncommon for children to be stolen by raiders. And despite their best attempts to cease the raids, the raiders just planned to hit different sites, so no pattern could be established. While depressing, it was a thought for later. He had this opportunity…

He could just give him a little…

Legolas didn't expect the sensation of Aragorn's head leaning into his own forehead, but gladly welcomed it in his haze of medicinal herbs. Aragorn held his position for a few seconds, taking in the beautiful scent of Legolas's thoroughly washed skin. The healers had done a very thorough job cleaning the typically flawless skin of the elf, but Aragorn still hated seeing the bandages peeking out from underneath the loose light blue robe. His Legolas didn't-

…his Legolas.

Not Sauron's.

Not Thranduil's.

Not his brother's.

_His_ Legolas.

Something about that tiny combination of two words had Aragorn thinking about all the possibilities in the future. Assuming that he didn't set this relationship down in flames by this one act…

Legolas's hand gave a small tug to Aragorn's, making the king break his kiss on the elf's forehead to get a good look at the man he'd dreamed about for years. Legolas's blue eyes were focused on him, even though they were fighting to stay open.

"Are- Are you hungry?" Aragorn forced out, trying to remember that Legolas hadn't eaten real food in days. A gentle smile and a tiny nod set Aragorn to the bedside table. He fetched a bundle of grapes and a few pieces of cheese that lay on a platter meant just for the previously slumbering elf. Wrapping an arm around elf's torso, he pulled Legolas upwards against his own chest for support as he raised the fruit to his lips. Aragorn plucked a grape from the bunch and held it to the elf's mouth, who took it appreciatively. They repeated the movements over a few minutes, until Legolas waved his hand against it.

"How are you feeling?" Aragorn asked carefully, trying not to upset the elf. Legolas frowned slightly as he resituated himself against the king. He pressed his face into Aragorn's diaphragm, blocking the perfect porcelain face of the prince from the king's view. Aragorn rested a heavy hand on Legolas's head to comfort him. The subtle thought of what was running through Legolas's head after the past week scared Aragorn. If he could, he would have taken all the troubling ideas and memories from his beloved Legolas and thrown them out the window, hopefully smashing them on the rocks below.

"Better." Legolas's hoarse voice came rasping out of his throat, muffled by the closeness of the king's body. Aragorn stopped the odd combing of Legolas's hair with his fingers. He hadn't realized he was doing something so intimate with the prince of Mirkwood. He rested his hand on the prince's head, trying to resist the urge to pull the seemingly small prince into a hug. If he wasn't certain the guards and his brothers would be royally pissed, Aragorn would lock the door to the room. Privacy was limited when someone was under these potentially temperamental herbs, only because it wasn't uncommon for people to go comatose or choke on their own tongue when the herbs kept them asleep for too long.

"Legolas…" Aragorn started as the prince looked up at him by turning his head just slightly, revealing one very beautiful but reddening blue eye.

"Muph…" Legolas grumbled. Aragorn smiled at him, taking that as a 'yes?".

"I want to help you, if you'd let me." Aragorn spoke, trying to encourage the young elf to talk to him. He would do anything for the prince, but he wasn't psychic. If he could get Legolas to tell him what he needed, Aragorn would be glad to do everything in his power to make the beautiful elf as comfortable as possible.

Legolas stilled, his body freezing as if every drop of blood in his body had been turned into ice. He remained unmoving for nearly ten minutes as Aragorn held the prince close.

"I… I…" Legolas's voice came out roughly. The next thing Aragorn knew, he was on the floor with a borderline crying Legolas looking down on him. He stared up at the prince, watching as heavy tears flowed from his eyes.

"Legolas, I-" Aragorn started.

"Out." The prince growled, tears unstopping.

"I'm sorry?" Aragorn replied, not sure what the prince meant by 'out'.

"Get. Out." Legolas growled again. Aragorn reached up for Legolas's arm, only to have it slapped away from him.

"Legolas, I was only trying to help-" Aragorn tried, his voice as gentle as he could muster.

"GET OUT!" The Mirkwood royal roared as his tears spilled faster. Legolas grabbed a pillow and threw it at the man, frustration and anger evident in his reddening face. Aragorn, realizing this battle was lost long before he entered the room, gathered himself up and scrambled for the door.

He ran until his legs were tired, and found himself falling upon his knees in Elrond's study. The Rivendel noble flung himself from his chair, ignoring the crying child who'd been awakened by the door repelling off the wall. Elrond's arms were around Aragorn's shoulders, but it didn't stop the King from letting his suddenly foggy eyes cloud over with tears. He didn't reach up to stop them from falling, but rather chose to crash to the floor while the worrying hands of the great healer fussed over his sobbing form.

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><p>Legolas bundled himself in his blankets as soon as Aragorn was gone. He refused to answer Mablung's inquiries, and ignored the healers hands trying to push him back to the bed. Part of him was miserable that he'd just pushed away the first person willing to help him get back to normal- and a friend he'd risked life and death with at that. He just couldn't open up right now. His mind was thoroughly divided, and it was almost as if he was watching two different plays going on in his head.<p>

One was a sensible play, with rational ideas and kinds words echoing throughout his skull. A play where peace was easily found in the friends he'd made after the ring was destroyed, and fought alongside during the battles the swarmed Middle-Earth in the days that followed. The very friends who had rescued him… hadn't they?

The other was a play about anger, rage, and ultimate loneliness. A play where the main character was willing to destroy everything he'd ever loved because one person- one wretched person, who lied, stole and cheated his way into the man's life- ruined him. The man kept screaming, fighting, and tearing apart anything he could get his hands on. And it wasn't until every last bit of what made him real was destroyed- everything that was his essence- could he allow himself the pain filled tears that cleaned every wound he'd inflicted in his rage.

Currently, the Raging play was much louder in his head. And he had allowed it to scare away the only person he'd ever cared for.

But what if this was one of Sauron's illusions? What if he was still in the insane man's keep, barred from the world he loved so much and left to rot by the very people he sought to protect? What if the Aragorn he was seeing was a fake? And he'd been sent to force Legolas into submission again?

Legolas couldn't risk it. He had to keep everyone away from him. No one could be trusted. They were all working for that monster…

He didn't think as a cloth came over his mouth and a healer spoke kind words while his brother's held his limbs down. He wanted to fight, but they were saying something about stitches and wounds. Unwelcomed sleep took him quickly as his rage simmered into darkness.

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><p>Review please? They mean so much to me. And when I get the time, I'll try to read the books. I really want to, and I know I have all four around here somewhere.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for reading this far! I love you guys! My fans rock! Note me if you see an issue. I'm trying to keep this as typo free as possible, but it's hard sometimes.

I don't own Lord of the Rings and make no money off this.

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><p>Legolas lay in his bed for what seemed like an eternity, not moving from his position as he thought about everything that had happened. He could tell that people were around him, fluttering in and out as the sun rose and set. He didn't care that days were passing, but his mind was still locked on Aragorn. He couldn't believe that he'd been so cruel to the man that had risked his life to save him. It wasn't Aragorn's fault that the blonde elf didn't want to be touched, but he hadn't even thought about how Aragorn would respond before lashing out at the noble ranger.<p>

Legolas felt his stomach give a hungry lurch, growling at him for sustenance. He hadn't fed his tired body in days, and Mablung's attempts at getting him to eat had proved futile. He didn't want to eat, sleep, or do anything until Aragorn came back.

"-golas, you have to eat." He caught the tail end of another plead from Mablung. He didn't care that all three of his brothers had brought his favorite dishes to his bed side. How they even knew that these things were his favorite was beyond him at the moment, but his eyes caught the fork that was trying to gain entrance into mouth. He kept his lips closed and his body flaccid against the bed. Mablung relented first, tossing the fork back in the bowl in his hands and seating himself on the bed.

"Legolas, please tell us what you need." Glorfindel pleaded. Legolas's eyes darted between the three brothers for a moment, contemplating his next move. He didn't want to see these three at the moment. He wanted to see Aragorn. He really didn't want to see anyone, but he should at least apologize to Aragorn. After a few moments of staring off into the distance, Legolas pushed himself from his position on the bed with a sickening crack of sore, stiff muscles grinding against bones that had been very happy not moving for...

"How many days have passed?" Legolas croaked out, his voice betraying what resolution he had. His body screamed for him to eat, rest and take the medications the nurses had not been able to force down his throat. Once again, he refused to listen to reason and sensibility.

"Four days." Glorfindel replied. Legolas shoved his torso into a sitting position as he tried to ignore the painful motions effects on his back. Mablung's hands came out to help his little brother steady himself.

"Please Legolas. We just want to help." The first born prince insisted. Glorfindel held out his hands, ready to catch the younger prince the moment he needed help.

"I need to see Aragorn." Legolas demanded, his voice going stale. Mablung sat up a little, looking to his other brother's for a decision.

"Aragorn? What do you want with that mess of a man?" Glorfindel chuffed. Legolas shot him an evil glare.

"What did you say?" Legolas demanded, his irritation stifled only by his lack of energy.

"I- I said he's not been seen around in two days." Glorfindel responded. His brother was an imposing force when he was angry. When Legolas was angry, his eyes narrowed and his shoulders slumped in such a fashion that one would have mistaken him for a Warg. The last time they'd managed to irritate Legolas to this extent, all three of them had ended up with arrows stuck in their rears and their father laughing the entire evening at Legolas's outburst. Legolas had politely excused himself from the evening meal that night.

"I need to see him." Legolas repeated, not sparing the glare at his brothers. Glorfindel looked to Mablung. The eldest sighed as he lifted himself from the bed and started for the door.

"I'll try to get him, but you have to eat something first. Make him eat before I get back." Mablung addressed to the two brothers who were still standing. Legolas chose to flop back on the bed as his energy gave out. Glorfindel nodded to the elder brother as he closed the large door behind him. Silence took the room for a moment before Glorfindel looked at Finglofin and smirked. Fin took a moment before catching on, and looked towards the depressed elf in the bed.

"For old times' sake?" Glorfindel chuckled. Fin nodded, approving in his recently quiet way. They approached the bed slowly, readying themselves to pounce on the moping mess that dwelled there. Legolas's dampened senses didn't pick up on their actions until they jumped up into the air above him. The two imbeciles hit the mattress with a sickening thump, pinning Legolas to the soft surface.

"You! I! Get off!" Legolas growled as Glorfindel's hands held his wrists down firmly, staying just out of his younger brother's reach. Legolas thrashed as hard as he could, tossing his torso left and right with tired, weakened muscles calling for sanctuary. His wrists burned as he tried to grab his elder brothers' hands. However, just like when they were kids, his fingertips didn't touch his brothers' hands, and he remained pinned to the bed. He was at their mercy, and they were never merciful when they were children. There was an incident where they had captured Legolas in a net on a hunting trip, and left him there for a day before coming to find him. They thought it was hilarious to see him strung up like a fresh catch, but his wrist broke when their net had pulled shut. He couldn't even tell them about it before their father showed up and scolded him for being so dazed while hunting. He had to wait until they returned to the palace to get a medic to heal him. That day was the first time he'd felt so alone.

"Give it up, brother!" Glorfindel chuckled as Legolas tried to dislodge the larger man. Fin grabbed the bowl of potatoes and offered the spoon to his older brother. Glorfindel tossed his head to the side, encouraging the younger man to feed their youngest brother.

"Get off!" Legolas mumbled through his teeth, refusing to open his mouth. Leave it to his most arrogant and quietest brothers to feed him! Chances were they'd end up strangling him with the food instead giving him the nourishment that everyone, now including himself, thought he needed.

"Not a chance, little brother!" Glorfindel chuckled as he pushed the weakened elf's arms down even harder. Fin waited until Legolas gave an infuriated growl, and then shoved the spoon into Legolas's mouth. Legolas sputtered and choked on the potatoes, kicking out at his brothers who finally let the youngest elf up. He grasped his throat as he hacked against the lump of mashed root in his throat. The floor met Legolas as he fell against the hard stone, landing with a cringe worthy thump. Fin's hand had forgotten the spoon in the bowl and found its way to Legolas's shoulder, comforting his brother as best he could. Legolas managed to dislodge the potatoes with an odd gulp, straining his vocal cords against the bruised area of his esophagus.

"Legolas?" Fin whispered, his voice soft as a rabbit's song. Legolas held his hand against his throat as he managed a smile to his brother. After all these years, his mind finally realized that the taunting, teasing and tormenting was just his brother's way of giving him attention. He stared at his elder brother's, who's faces spoke of fear and worry beyond anything the archer had seen from them in earlier years. He watched their reactions as he thought back to all the times he'd been upset with them, and now realized that his anger and fear were thoroughly misplaced.

"I'm… I'm ok." Legolas said flatly as he reached up to embrace his brothers. They rushed against his nude chest, greeting the warm flesh with clothed arms. He could feel their warmth spreading through him, making him feel more real than he had in recent days. Part of him still felt like a ghost, barely there as he watched the days move on without him. The fraction of him that chose not to care vanished from his mind, leaving his heart raw and aching for affection and attention.

He pulled his brothers to him, holding them as tight as he could without hurting them. The wetness of tears ran down his cheeks, but he paid it little mind as sobs overtook his body. His mind raged with questions of why and how things got this far, but his brothers voices calmed his aching heart. He let their shoulders catch the fluid as it fell, not even gracing his cheeks with an attempt to brush away the salty trails.

Mablung entered the room to find all three men on the floor, hugging like a group of school children. He didn't think to ask at the moment, but saw the bowl of potatoes on the desk. He gave a hefty sigh, launching his body towards the trio as he grabbed the bowl of potatoes.

"I said to get him to eat." Mablung growled as he dumped the potatoes over Glorfindel's head. The second oldest released his hold on the other two, growling as he threw himself at the eldest brother. Fin let a little laugh through his lips as he and Legolas released the hug a little, watching the two elder brothers rumble on the floor. Legolas allowed a helping arm from Fin to haul him back onto the bed as he took another bowl from the table. His appetite had returned with the vengeance of an entire army coming home to a destroyed village.

Legolas's stomach roared and growled until he stuffed a spoonful of stewed carrots and beef into his mouth. His time with the Fellowship had given him a hunger for meat that he'd never had with the elves of Mirkwood. It was unusual for his homeland to consume meat outside festivals and occasionally at night. With such a plentiful forest, it seemed like too much work to hunt and devour the beasts that lived beside them. As the flavor of the stew flooded his tongue, Legolas sighed appreciatively. He'd forgotten how great cooking from Rivendel was. The meat must have been stewed for some time, melting on his tongue like a pat of butter.

"Legolas" Mablung started as Legolas looked up at him, a mouthful of stew still in his mouth. "Aragorn said he'd like to see you in a few hours. He must tend to a recent development before he can see you."

Legolas nodded as he swallowed the stew, wiping the corner of his mouth where the delicious mixture trickled down his chin. He gave a small smile towards the eldest brothers as they took the chairs that had been placed in the room. They sat in awkward silence for a good five minutes until Legolas had finished his bowl of stew.

"What's happened while I've been out?" Legolas shattered the deafening silence with a simple question. Mablung looked to Glorfindel for a moment before glancing at the floor for courage. He took a deep breath in before looking back at the bed bound elf.

"Well, we got word from Gandalf that you'd been captured. So we almost went against father to come rescue you, only to find that your friends had already done so when we got to Old Forest Road. We came straight to Rivendel we sent the army back." Mablung replied. Legolas took a moment to gather all the information, and gave a slight smirk to his brothers.

"You had an army coming to my rescue?" Legolas chortled. The other brothers started to laugh, slowly at first. As raucous laughter overtook the room, Glorfindel nearly fell from his chair and Mablung held his sides.

"Well, of course! You are our brother! Why wouldn't the realm want to save the beautiful prince of Mirkwood?"Glorfindel laughed. Legolas couldn't believe what he was hearing. Beautiful? He couldn't recall a time when he'd thought of himself as beautiful, or received a compliment from anyone in Mirkwood about his beauty.

"You're kidding, right?" Legolas chuckled as he accepted a light hug from a slumped over Fin.

"No. Should we be?" Mablung finished his laughter.

"Well, no one back there ever spoke of my face. I thought I was plain as could be." Legolas replied, his laughter resolving to a tombstone like severity.

"Well, I'm sure I heard pleanty of the grace the youngest prince held while traveling through the markets." Glorfindel chucked back at Legolas.

"Oh yes. Father became enraged that anyone would look at his youngest child with such lustful glares. He ordered that anyone caught courting you before your eighteenth year was to be banished from the realm." Mablung added on. Legola could only stare at him with disbelief. There was a law about him?

"Wait. Are you telling me that all the times I spent alone were because of a law?" Legolas asked, flabbergasted at this news. The three remaining brothers looked to each other before replying.

"Well, I thought you were just quiet for those years. You never seemed to want to make friends, so we let you have your time with your books." Mablung replied, slightly shocked at the message.

"I thought everyone despised me!" Legolas huffed as he flopped back on the bed. The two eldest brother smiled at each other, pity flaring in their eyes. "So they were afraid of me?"

"To a degree, I suppose. Father was rather protective of you, but then again, you look exactly like mother." Mablung answered. Legolas could only stare at Fin as if waiting for something to add on.

"So you… remember mother?" Legolas asked gently. He'd never met his mother, and was fearful of asking his father about her. He was always so quiet when Legolas entered the room, it was unnerving.

"Of course." Glorfindel replied, knowing in the back of his mind to prepare to answer Legolas's questions. They'd been thinking about the answers they'd provide for years, so this was just another lump filled throat session of readying themselves for the worse.

"Can you… can you tell me about her?" Legolas asked as Fin pulled the thickest blanket around Legolas's shoulders. Legolas curled into his brother, much like a child waiting to hear a tale from their mother. To some extent, that was true. Since Legolas's mother hadn't lived to raise her last born, Glorfindel and Mablung had taken up the story telling position in the family. When Legolas was younger, he'd listen to their tales of heroes and villains for hours on end. They would usually put their baby brother to bed long before their own bedtime, and check on him before they rested their heads.

"You would have loved her. She was very kind and generous. She loved to sing and spent many hours in the garden tending to the plants there." Mablung started, all of a sudden forgetting to pace himself with the story telling. All of his preparation was forgotten as he wrung his hands vigorously, his nerves shredding themselves on the amount of stress that flowed through his body.

"She loved to sing us to sleep, and would always find time to play with us when father was busy." Glorfindel added quietly. Legolas felt a twinge of pain in the back of his heart, but chose to silence it as a memory on awry. He needed to move away from the old parasitic thoughts that ravaged his childhood.

"Father loved to sit with us when he could. She-" Mablung was cut off as a shadow came across the threshold. All four brothers looked up to see a weary Aragorn leaning on the doorframe, bags heavy under his eyes. His hair was ruffled and his clothes hadn't been changed since last night, bearing the stains of an infant's vomit.

"My liege." Mablung spoke as he, Glorfindel and Fin bowed their heads. Aragorn motioned for them to raise up with a flick of the wrist.

"Brothers," Legolas spoke, getting their attention "Could you give us the evening?"

Mablung nodded and pulled the two other brothers out of the room, whispering a kind bidding to the blonde elf on the bed. Aragorn waited until they were out the door to close it. He quietly shut the heavy wooden door behind them before making his way towards the available chair at Legolas's side.

Legolas watched silently as the tired king practically fell into the seat with a flump. He wanted to offer some comfort to the man, but held his hand back for a moment.

"Aragorn…" Legolas began, feeling a lump stick in his throat. His eyes met the bed for about half a minute before meeting the tired form again.

"I'm sorry I upset you the other day…" Aragorn's voice came across the tense air. Legolas felt his chest tighten roughly as the guilt roared inside him.

"No, it wasn't your fault. I overreacted to a memory. I should apologize to you, my friend." Legolas hurried back. Aragorn, ever so perfect Aragorn, shouldn't feel guilty over what happened between them. Legolas reached out and grasped Aragorn's hand gently, bringing it to his chest to hold it between his warm hands. Aragorn, slightly shocked by this action, could only stare at his friend with a mixture of confusion and exhaustion. When Legolas's arms came around his form, Aragorn could only acknowledge that his hand found its way into Legolas's long blonde locks, savoring the silky texture of the platinum tresses.

"I missed you…" Aragorn whispered as he pulled the elf into a loose embrace. He couldn't work up the energy to grip the other man as tightly as he would have liked, but this was good. Hopefully Legolas wouldn't see him as desperate or needy, but he really could utilize this closeness. He needed the affection of others, and Elrond was a good father, but he needed physical love as well.

His son needed a name. He'd almost forgotten about the tiny babe currently napping in his crib in Elrond's study. He'd need to get him before bedtime, which was only an hour away.

"Legolas… I need to go." Aragorn stated bluntly. His voice just wouldn't gain the happy tone he wanted to provide. He gently got up from his seat and started towards the door.

"No." Legolas's gasped, his voice giving a slight panic about it. Aragorn stopped for a moment to turn back towards the elf.

"Please, I have to see my son." Aragorn said as he ruffled his hair gently, trying to knock the feeling of sweat and a day's worth of dirt off his scalp.

"Son?" Legolas questioned. Aragorn had a son. He'd almost forgotten. Aragorn had a busy life outside the fellowship, and an heir was needed for Gondor. Legolas felt a wave of selfish guilt wash over him, but did his best not to act on its calls to pull the man back to the bed with him.

"I had a child. Arwen…" Aragorn started as he lost his will to speak. His heart, despite all of his battles against it's sorrow, was still red and raw from the loss of his wife.

"Is she-" Legolas pretended he didn't know for a moment. Aragorn was in no shape to deal with arrogance or attempt to catch up with everything that had happened. So Legolas just needed to let his friend talk where he felt comfortable and not push the matters any further than what the weary king was willing to release.

"Passed after the birth. I pray she finds peace." Aragorn mumbled, doing his best not to doze off where he was standing. He didn't realize he was this tired, but his muscles screamed at him to rest while his mind ran rampant with thoughts of what needed to be done.

"Why not bring the child here tonight. He can rest… and we can talk. At least until we are too tired to speak." Legolas offered. The medical wing was usually very quiet, as was the rest of Rivendel when the trickster hobbit duo wasn't around. And… well, Legolas wanted to meet the child of his best friend in the world.

"There is no second bed or crib." Aragorn stated after a moment of thinking to himself.

"No reason we can't share the bed. It's big enough for four." Legolas prompted.

"…deal." Aragorn replied with a tired smile. He couldn't think well at the moment, but he could enjoy the evening with the two people, resting in the comfort of the dark, safe rooms of Rivendel's hospitality. It wasn't like anyone was going to come looking for him until he was ready to come back.

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><p>The next morning, Elrond searched the house for his son in law and his grandson, only to find that every bed in the house was empty. After making his way to the medical center, located only a few meters from his front door, he found that Aragorn had never left the previous evening. Upon being escorted to Legolas's room, he witnessed the most adorable sight ever.<p>

Curled up in Aragorn's prized fur on Legolas's bed was the tiny bundle known as his nameless grandson. Aragorn had chosen to shed his jacket and shirt, and still bore the signs of wet hair after a quick bath. His eyes seemed less bagged, and his body seemed much more relaxed than Elrond had seen in days with the young man. A glace over to the elf prince showed the blonde man was resting well, a small smile on his face as a hand was draped over Aragorn and the young Gondor heir, who slept peacefully between them.

Elrond didn't have the heart to wake them, so he just slowly closed the door and decided to let the trio rest until midday. Or until the baby started to cry.


	8. Chapter 8

You awesome people know the drill! Review politely if you want, because it means a lot to me, and feel free to comment if I miss something big or have a typo. I try to keep my work decent, but it slips occasionally when I get tired.

*edit: thank you Aralas!

I make no money off this and I only write for fun. All rights belong to… whoever holds LOTR copyright these days.

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><p>Aragorn roughly awoke to the sound of his child's needy whimper. A fresh cloth and a bottle later, the youngster was ready for another nap. He'd been rather lethargic since yesterday, but Aragorn had allowed his stress filled mind to provide an explanation of overreaction on the young king's part. He had brushed his overprotective thoughts aside as he placed the tiny babe between himself and his hopeful lover. He noted that the infant's breaths were slightly faster than yesterday, and his face was warm and tinted pinker than his typical rosy complexion. Aragorn's strangely shallow thoughts were interrupted by a thin, perfectly warm honeyed milk colored hand reaching to touch the small child's head.<p>

The frazzled warrior smiled at the blonde elf, who gladly took the infant from his father. The unnamed child cooed and chirped as Legolas ran three thin, still purpled fingers through the warm bundle's small tuft of black hair. His hands mimicked night and day, one dark and bruised, and the other bright and beautiful. Aragorn felt a wave of guilt wash over his body, sending tiny shivers and rumbles through his chest and down to the tips of his fingers. He wanted to wipe all the blemishes away from his beloved, but knew that time was responsible for that task. Nothing he could do would make the marks any better, or clear the damaged memories of Sauron's keep from the elf prince's mind.

"He needs a name." The elf prince stated, his tone even for the first time in days. Seeing this tiny baby pleading to play with his fingertips seemed to bring out a very attractive, caring side of Legolas. Aragorn couldn't help but lay down beside this wonderful man and appreciate the morning light reflecting off the light golden mass. The light breeze granted his still tired body some comfort, gently caressing his frustration warmed flesh and removing the heat from his body. He allowed his eyes to slip shut as he listened to the tiny bundle play with Legolas. Positive chirps and happy squeaks poured from his mouth like the clearest waters of Gondor's highest falls.

"He does…" Aragorn relented as he turned his weary body towards the duo. He could hear the baby chuckling a small, jovial laugh. Part of his mind wondered if he sounded like that when he was but the size of a loaf of bread. He didn't remember his own parents well, but he did recall Elrond speaking very fondly of them. It wasn't uncommon for royalty to be killed in these past dark times, but now it seemed so far away. The only reason Aragorn was still here was that his mother had brought him to Elrond when he was only a moon old. Despite loving her child, she knew he would be safest with the elves, and used herself to draw away the forces of Sauron that pursued her to her grave. Elrond said he'd never heard of her fate after that dark, quiet night. Aragorn believed the man, not that Elrond would bother lying to the boy about his parents. He had nothing to gain or lose by harboring the young child of man in the palace of Rivendel. Aragorn would gain the knowledge needed of the court, so when he returned to his own realm, he wouldn't be usurped in a fortnight.

"Any ideas?" The blonde elf inquired as he brushed the quickly tiring infant's messy black hair from his brilliant blue eyes. The child surrendered to exhaustion, his chuckles giving way to quiet mumbles. Legolas brought his cool fingertips to the infants head and held them steady for a moment, checking the small babe's feverish forehead.

"Aragorn?" Legolas asked again, trying to get the drowsy man's attention.

"Mumpf?" Aragorn hummed as he tried to pretend to enter the realm of the waking. He felt as though he could have slept from now until the New Year's festival, and it was only the end of the summer harvest!

"I think he's ill." Legolas offered as he grabbed a thick blanket off their currently shared bed and carefully wrapped the tiny bundle in the warmed cloth. Aragorn pried himself from his cushy bedding, pushing his unusually heavy torso upwards as he turned to look at his son.

"Hey, little one. You feeling bad?" Aragorn cooed as he ran a heavy, war weathered hand over the infants new flesh. He'd forgotten how soft babies were until now. His child reminded him of a bundle of freshly risen dough from the bakers boards back at Rivendel.

"He's feverish. Here." Legolas said as he carefully transferred the tiny child to his father's welcoming arms. Aragorn brought the small babes' head into the crook of his left arm while the rest of his soft body was supported by the length of the former ranger's arms. He hung so limply in his coverings, Aragorn thought he might have gone to sleep. A small cough, barely louder than a kittens' cry, exploded from the tiny babes' throat.

"I'm going to get a healer." Legolas said as he rose from the bed, throwing on a loose tunic as he ventured from the quiet room into the slightly noisier hall. Aragorn returned his half baked attention span back to his newborn son. The child moaned stressfully, trying to flail his tiny hands against his suddenly roasting coverings. The Strider gently unraveled his tiny babe and grabbed a cloth from the table. Wiping away a sweat droplet, to which the infant showed his hatred of cloth against his forehead with an ineffective swipe at his father's hand. Aragorn could only smile as he continued to wipe away the beads of salty fluid from the baby's head.

"My lord." A healer ushered himself and the elf prince back into the private suite. Aragorn handed the small child to the healer as he sat beside the weary king. The child pouted as he was transferred to the healer's arms. The white clad healer unraveled what was left of the child's clothing to examine the now fussy child. Aragorn slipped back into his mock awake state, his tired brain too worn to pay attention to what the healer was doing. Thankfully Legolas was there, and he could trust the elf to watch his child with the healer. Not that there was anything to worry about- after all, these were the same healers that tended to his injuries when he was a younger man. Most of them had never left the healing rooms of the palace, so they knew the tiny boy who wanted to become a Ranger one day from the sound of his cries after a bad fall. They joked that they had lost count of how many times one of the guards had hauled the small boy into the healer's rooms at first light, saying that he'd fallen from his horse again. Elrond had laughed it off many times, but Aragorn looked back fondly on those days when he didn't have to worry about a kingdom or subjects. He missed being able to ride off into the wilds of Rivendel's forest without worrying about when to return or who would be looking for him. Such was the curse of responsibility.

"My liege?" The healer's voice came through to his ears. Aragorn's eyes shot open and his torso jerked in surprise as he looked around the room for an unseen enemy that had accosted his rest. His bright eyes fell to healer and Legolas staring at him as if he'd just grown rabbit ears atop his head.

"Aragorn?" Legolas reinforced gently. The king shook his head and nodded to them to continue.

"He has a fever, but I cannot find any determining causes. A good days rest should tell us more or allow his recovery. He probably caught something from another child." The healer announced as he reached into his satchel to retrieve a few well picked herbs. He grabbed a cup of water and placed the dried leaves into the fluid and swirled it to create a thick soup. Despite another round of fussy fists flailing in the air, the healer forced the cup gently to the babe's mouth and poured the fluid in slowly, taking small breaks to allow the babe to sputter out what hadn't been swallowed out of reluctance. As soon as the offending fluid vessel was removed, the tiny tot looked towards his father and would-be mother as though they had just branded him with a hot cattle iron. Legolas reached forward to take the baby back into less seemingly hostile arms. It would be years before the child understood the importance of medication and why it tasted so bad.

"It's ok, it's ok…" Legolas cooed as the small child curled back into the warm wrapping of his blanket and gripped Legolas's tunic with his tiny fists, exhausted from flailing with what little strength he had. Legolas soothed the child by placing him back between the two men, covering him in one of the thickest blankets they had. Despite feeling as though all he'd done was rest day in and day out for the past week, slumber beckoned him to lay back down beside the pair. Aragorn was bidding the healer good day and seeing him to the door, but promptly dragged himself back to the soft surface of the bed as he felt his eyes drooping again. He couldn't understand why he was so tired and felt so warm. But the call of cool sheets and a warm set of bodies resting safely next to him was too much for the weary king to argue with.

"Aragorn? Are you feeling well?" Legolas asked as he placed a hand on the king's forehead, noticing the sheen of sweat that now decorated his good friend's face. Aragorn nodded as he slid his boots off again, rolling into the elf's side as his arms moved around his child and lover respectively. The small babe was back to being situated between the two men, safely cradled between their bulks.

"I'm fine, dear prince." Aragorn murmured as he pulled the kind hand down and pressed a light kiss against the blonde elf's hand. Legolas smiled as he put his worried mind to rest, noting that as soon as these two were asleep, he'd fetch some food for all three of them. It felt like years since he'd last eaten, and the baby's milk was going to run out in a few hours. Despite the feeling of uncertainty towards the man's condition, he swept them under the rug to press a small kiss to the baby's head before reaching over to place a more intimate kiss on Aragorn's head. The man probably didn't even notice as his snores invaded the quiet of the room, startling the birds outside the window into fluttering off into the forest.

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><p>Elrond grimly stared at the accursed letter in his hand. He knew he should have sought his advisors and Gandalf for this incident, but he felt he could have at least told the new king resting with his son and friend before consulting his associates. Considering the dark scrawl that seemed to be chiseled into the parchment by crudely trained minions of Sauron, Legolas should have been the first to hear this.<p>

"Mathe-" Elrond spoke to the scribe who brought the recently penned letter to him, startling the younger elf from his thoughts. "Fetch Gandalf for me. Tell him it's urgent." Mathe bowed quickly before turning on his heal and rushing out the door, his purple cloak gainng purchase on the wind as he flew past the grand marble columns of Rivendel.

What seemed like only a few minutes of darkened thoughts filled with visions of death and destruction were broken by a familiar grey cloak entering the study. The sky had decided to pout as storm clouds moved in, slowly alternating between cheerful light and sobered grey shadows.

"You called for me?" Gandalf said as he took the seat next to the standing elf. It didn't take much to see the distress that painted the older man's refined features.

"Sauron sent his demands. Legolas in exchange for a temporary truce." Elrond delivered, his voice taught with a mixture of anger, grief, and possibly disgust. Gandalf took the letter into his hand, studying it for a moment before tossing it back to the table to take its place atop beautifully decorated scrolls on child rearing and political matters.

"And what will this achieve?" Gandalf asked, knowing full well the rhetorical nature of his inquiry. Elrond sighed as he slid down into the cosy chair beside Gandalf, rubbing his tired eyes gently as he tried to assimilate an answer.

"Most likely, nothing. Sauron's truces only last as long as final meal." Elrond relented. Gandalf took his pipe from his pocket and lit it, allowing the smoke to seethe from the wooden apparatus slowly.

"I take it our trio of sick and injured are still in their bed?" Gandalf asked as he gazed off, lost in his own thoughts.

"Thankfully. I knew Aragorn wasn't well, but I didn't realize the baby had caught his illness." Elrond said as he allowed his body to slump against the chair.

"They are a good fit." Gandalf said as he removed his pipe for a moment, picking up the letter once again.

"That they are. Arwen would be proud he found such a wonderful person, even so soon after her death." Elrond agreed, his own heart stinging at the memories of his daughter and her plans of becoming a mother. He had allowed the pain to take too much of his life, and knowing full well that she would be angry if he were to miss her so. Nothing had been done in weeks while Rivendel mourned its star. She knew her time was coming when the baby was being born, and chose not to fight it. At least, if only a tiny bit of condolence, she got to hold her tiny newborn for but a moment.

"He will be a good man, and a good father to the child." Gandlaf continued, his mind quietly racing to find a decent solution that didn't concern handing Legolas over to Sauron for a delay on the destruction of Rivendel.

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><p>Andddd brain fizzled! Thought I had a good run going too. Oh well. Will post the next chapter in a few weeks. My tests schedule is awkward and it seems I have too many medical appointments all of a sudden.<p> 


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